Ray of Smoke
by Tassos
Summary: COMPLETE: Ten cycles in the future, Moya returns to Earth, only John's not aboard. Extra's include political intrigue, family angst and a descision that will tear John apart.
1. A Distant Encounter of the Third Kind

Ray of Smoke  
by Tassos  
  
Disclaimer: It's okay, you can say it: "Tassos owns Farscape." There, that wasn't so bad, was it? And you thought lying was hard, pfft!  
  
Rating: PG - swearing and sexual innuendo  
Category: Future Fic / Drama / Alternate Universe after Fractures  
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3 up to and including Fractures  
Additional Notes: 1) Talyn and Crais are still alive and kicking ass  
2) Jool came back from her dig to live on Moya  
3) Microbes let you understand a language as if you spent a year learning a second language - the sounds are still foreign, the meaning is not   
4) There was a disaster in Houston so all the important space stuffhappens at Canaveral (just go with me here)  
5) This story is self beta read  
6) I LOVE FEEDBACK! SO PLEASE SEND ME SOME!  
  
Thank you's to: All Feedbackers who kept my spirits up, my parents for not laughing in my face, my sister for grammar checking, and all my wonderful friends who supported me throughout the year while I wrote this brain tumor.   
  
Summary: Eight cycles in the future, an accidental starburst sends Moya to Earth, only John's not aboard... Extras include: humor, culture clash, political intrigue, family angst, and a decision that will tear John apart.  
  
Dedication:À la belle France qui a changé ma vie.  
  
  
Ray of Smoke  
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Part 1: A Distant Encounter of the Third Kind  
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Chapter 1: What the Frell?  
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D'argo awoke with a grunt of surprise as a solid weight landed on his chest. His hand automatically reached for his knife before his brain kicked in and opened his eyes. A fuzzy face hovered denches away from his own. The warrior relaxed and closed his eyes with a sigh, hoping he was dreaming. But when he reopened them, the grinning face of six-year-old Rhia was still two denches from his nose. Black hair, blue eyes, and crooked smile, the Human-Sebacean half-breed presented the face of purest innocence.  
  
"Morning, D'argo," the little girl giggled.  
  
"Good morning, Rhia," D'argo rumbled softly, glancing at the chronometer which told him it was definitely way too early to be awake. Why Rhia thought that every day merited a chat in the last hours of ship's night was one of the universe's great mysteries - one that D'argo wished was solved so he could go back to sleep. "Aren't you supposed to be with Chiana for two more days?"   
  
"She's asleep," Rhia told him matter of factly. D'argo stared blankly at her as he tried to follow her logic. Hadn't he just been asleep? "She said yesterday if I woke her early again I'd have to take a bath," the girl explained, eyes momentarily going wide at the horror of clean water. The Luxan couldn't help but smile.  
  
"What makes you think I won't send you to the same fate," he growled playfully, making a face. "Or worse, wash your hair?" Rhia rewarded him with a giggle - not intimidated in the least by the man who could reduce his cowering enemies to tears - and then broke into screeching laugher as his fingers attacked her ticklish sides. She tried to squirm away but D'argo held her tight, tickling under her chin and arms while he laughed with her. So he was a big softie at heart, D'argo mentally shrugged, he could think of worse things to be.  
  
After a few minutes, he let up and rolled Rhia to his side, tucking the blanket around her as she caught her breath. A giggle escaped every few minutes as she snuggled closer and D'argo smiled remembering when Jothee had been Rhia's age in those precious years when his life had been perfect. Lolhaan lying beside him when he woke to the sun streaming through the window, the smell of fresh earth with a trace of spice drifting on the breeze. Jothee in the next room innocent and unscarred.  
  
"D'argo?" Rhia interrupted his bittersweet musings. Halfway back to sleep, he looked down at his goddaughter who was twirling the corner of the blanket around her fingers. All traces of laughter were gone from her face. "When will Mama and Daddy come home?" she asked.  
  
D'argo sighed and ran a calloused palm over her hair as if it would soothe away her fears. Why did she have to ask that now? "After we get the refugees to Imosa we're going to pick them up with the next lot. Another monen, maybe," he gave her the longer estimate. The truth as usual.  
  
John and Aeryn decided early on that the best protection they could give their children in this harsh universe was knowledge. Thus every question was answered as truthfully as possible. They and the rest of the crew tried to shelter them from the worst if they could, but it was not always easy. Already, Rhia had known hunger, seen her mother kill an intruder, and spirited herself, her little brother and Chiana's adopted child to a safe room near Moya's starburst chamber where the ship herself could protect them if necessary. She knew where to kick   
or stick a knife in an attacker before disappearing into Moya's crawl spaces that the children played in daily, and where Rygel hid most of his food reserves.  
  
D'argo watched Rhia absorb the information as she continued to twist on the blanket, wishing with all his being that her childhood didn't have to be like this. But the UT's were hardly accommodating. It was unfair and cruel and no way to raise a child, but what choice did they have if they wanted to survive? Crichton called it the Law of the Jungle, though D'argo had never quite figured out what a forest had to do with it.   
  
"I wish they didn't have to go," Rhia sighed.  
  
"I know little one," the Luxan rubbed her arm, "I know. But Crais needs their help for this pickup. If all goes well they won't have to leave again for a long time."  
  
"What if it doesn't? Will they come back?" her voice dropped to a whisper.  
  
D'argo sighed again, wondering how to answer. Rhia knew that John, Aeryn, Crais and his small crew were going against the odds to a planet deep inside Scarran occupied territory. What she didn't know was that there was also a new base planet-side outfitted for wormhole and weapons research that Crais needed her parents' help to destroy.  
  
Even though the Scarran-Peacekeeper war had started shortly after Seth was born three cycles ago, wormholes hadn't been developed to a useful degree until just the last cycle. The Scarrans' research and development had been far behind that of the PK's seven cycles earlier when John and Aeryn, with the help of Crais and Talyn, had obliterated Scorpius and his scientists. Since then they had waged a guerrilla war against all wormhole tech and it had consequently been slow to re-emerge.  
  
"I can't make any promises," D'argo began, "but I'll tell you this. You are a part of your parents and they are a part of you and Seth. If you have faith in them as I do, that they will return safely, then they will know and it will help them come back unharmed."  
  
"You think they'll really come back?" Rhia twisted to face him, hope shining in her deep, blue eyes.  
  
"Yes, I do," answered D'argo seriously. He'd kill them himself if they didn't and broke her heart.  
  
They settled into a sleepy silence then, Rhia satisfied for the moment; both of them lulled by Moya's gentle hum back into dreamland, where the good guys always won.  
  
  
  
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D'argo was almost back to sleep when Pilot's voice burst over his comm.  
  
"D'argo." His voice was agitated. "D'argo wake up."  
  
"I'm up, Pilot," the Luxan rubbed his eyes. What he wouldn't give for a full night's sleep. "What's wrong?" He gently shifted the sleeping child so he could sit up. Rhia's eyes slit open a moment before she rolled over to go back to sleep. D'argo envied her the luxury as he listened to the ship's navigator.  
  
"Moya senses something that could be a command carrier but with their new jamming signal, we can't be certain," Pilot told him.  
  
Frell. The jolt of bad news banished all thought of rest. "Who's in command?" the Luxan asked rising. He looked around briefly for his clothes, checked Rhia again and noted with satisfaction the red splattered DRD by his door - Rhia's sentinel whom she'd ingeniously named Speckles.   
  
"Filalla," Pilot continued as D'argo hurriedly dressed. "He checked the readings and agrees."  
  
"I'll be right there. Wake the others." D'argo stormed out of his quarters as quietly as possible. Frelling Peacekeepers. Could be worse, he consoled himself bitterly, could be a Scarren dreadnaught. The thought was less than comforting; carrier or dreadnaught, they would still have more firepower than Moya did.  
  
Less than a hundred microts later, D'argo stood with the rest of Moya's crew, all save Chiana who was with the children, around the strategy table listening to Pilot repeat his information.   
  
"Can we starburst?" demanded Rygel when the navigator had finished from the clamshell. To Pilot's affirmative, he added, "Then let's get the frell out of here before they know we're here."  
  
"They might already know that we are here," Filalla said somberly. He was a rather short alien with three bony legs side by side instead of two. His skin was pale, clammy, and hairless giving him a ghostly appearance at odds with his rather forceful nature. In another life he'd been a free trader until war and circumstance had landed him on Moya. D'argo found him to be a taller, more companionable version of Rygel most of the time, but like the slug, he had his moments.   
  
"All the more reason to starburst away as soon as possible," said D'argo. He looked around the table at the group that was for once in agreement by their mutual hate of the Peacekeeprs.  
  
"I'm not objecting," Jool said impatiently when his eyes lighted on her.   
  
A moment later, Pilot's voice echoed throughout the leviathan to the ship's 10 000 passengers, warning them of the immanent starburst.  
  
  
  
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Rhia awoke at Pilot's announcement, the words slowly seeping meaning into her fuzzy brain. She remembered D'argo leaving when Pilot called the first time because it had gotten colder without him, but she didn't remember why. Before she had time to puzzle it out, she heard Chiana calling her name and so went back to the Nebari's quarters half a tier away.  
  
"Why are we starbursting?" she asked as she crawled onto the bed next to Chiana. Rhia didn't like starburst much: weird things happened either before, during, or after. She glanced around the gold room warily, looking for signs of imminent disaster, and with relief didn't find any. The Nebari held her adopted son, Essor, in her lap and Seth lay asleep on Essor's bed in the corner, curled into a wad of limbs and blankets.  
  
"Peacekeeper patrol," Chiana answered shortly as the familiar buzz and lurch of starburst slid them between dimensions. Rhia felt her stomach knot up and heard a faint ringing in her ears, side affects of the incompatible space between, then the slight jolt as Moya returned to normal space.  
  
"There," said Chiana smiling to reassure Essor who was even more sensitive to starburst than Rhia. He was just a baby, two and a half, with jet-black skin covered by a pale pink fuzz that was a little thicker on his head. He didn't look anything like his species who were pale brown with white fuzz, but Rhia liked Essor's colors better. His people said he was bad luck just because he was born the day the Peacekeepers attacked their planet. When Chiana heard him crying, about to be ceremonially brained by the other refugees they'd picked up, she had immediately rescued him.   
  
Dad said motherhood had snuck up on her favorite aunt, but Rhia didn't know what that meant. Chiana had found Essor and since his parents didn't want him, it was only right Chiana keep him. Though Rhia had been put out at the time because it was one less person to play with since her stupid brother had just been born too. And the stupid refugees kept trying to kill each other so no one else could play either. But then the pirates had attacked, and she had to watch Essor and Seth and Pilot like a grownup, so she forgave them.  
  
As she watched Chiana and Essor, Rhia missed Mama and Dad more than ever. She hated it when they had to leave. It wasn't fair. Rhia was about to ask Chiana when they'd be home when, all of a sudden, Essor screamed and Moya lurched again into a starburst that shouldn't have been possible. This one lasted longer and made Rhia feel more like a scrap of flattened, wrung out laundry than a three dimensional being. Several long microts after Rhia thought she couldn't stand it any longer, she was snapped back into normal space. Essor was still screaming.  
  
"Pilot!" Chiana shouted, simultaneously cooing and trying to soothe her son. Rhia lay gasping for breath beside her, scared and confused. Across the room, Seth stared wide-eyed from the other bed, completely awake now. "What the frell just happened?"   
  
"Neither Moya nor I know what happened," Pilot answered though Rhia thought his voice didn't sound quite right. "Something...pushed us back into starburst. Moya's reserves are gone; she can barely maintain stability!"  
  
"Is she all right?" Medri's voice asked.  
  
"It will take several days at least for her strength to begin to replenish," Pilot said.  
  
"How many?" asked D'argo.  
  
"Unknown. And I don't know how far off course we are either. Moya's outer senses are acting... strange."  
  
"Are we safe?" that was Rygel.  
  
There was a pause. "It appears that no one is firing on us," Pilot finally said.  
  
The comms went silent. Rhia looked to Chiana who was rocking Essor and murmuring quietly in his ear. "Are we in trouble?" she asked quietly.  
  
Chiana looked up and smiled. "Probably no more than usual. Come on, let's get some breakfast while we still can."  
  
Shivering slightly, Rhia slid off the bed and went to her pile of clothes on the shelf. If Chiana said not to worry, she wasn't going to worry. Strange things always happened after starburst, she reminded herself to quell the rattlers flopping in her belly, and until one of the adults needed to have a Talk with her, Rhia wasn't going to be afraid. But it was still hard.  
  
Nevertheless, two hundred microts later, more important things came up than weird starburts.   
  
" 'Ia!! You got it yestaday!" Seth wailed, holding on tightly to one half of the blue plate. Rhia's blue plate. The one she had painted. The one she had to *share*, now cause Seth's plate got melted.  
  
Rhia risked a brief glance at the adults to see if her cause would be championed. Today, only Jool and Medri joined Chiana and the floorfleas - Dad said they couldn't be 'rugrats' without rugs - for breakfast. Essor was firmly attached around Chiana's neck as she and yellow spotted, pale green Medri pretended to help Jool fix the ellka roots. For the moment, none of them were paying attention.  
  
"No, you did! It's my turn today!" Rhia, grasping the other half with her right hand, started to pry her brother's fingers up one by one. Just 'cause he was the youngest, everything had to be *his* way.  
  
"But you *a'ways* get it! It's *my* turn!" Seth plopped his fingers right back down. " 'Ia, let go!"  
  
"But it's *my* turn!"   
  
Suddenly the plate was plucked from their scrabbling fingers. Rhia looked up and saw Jool with the painted, metal plate and a displeased expression on her face. "It doesn't matter what color plate you eat off of, the food still tastes the same," she told them briskly, then turned and handed them both plain gray dishes.  
  
"But the blue plate's *my* plate!" Rhia whined, turning up the injured innocence.   
  
"Then next time you'll think twice before sticking Seth's plate in the oven," said Jool. "Now sit down. The roots are almost done."  
  
But it was *her* plate, Rhia thought angrily. "It's your fault," she whispered to Seth as they walked to their places at the table.  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Is too!"  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Hey, that's enough!" said Jool loudly, but impassioned by the righteousness of their causes, neither one of them listened.  
  
"Is too!" Rhia yelled.  
  
"Is not!" Seth screamed back.  
  
"Is too!"  
  
"Not another word or you'll both be spending the next weeken with Rygel!" Chiana shouted.   
  
They shut up. Rygel was never any fun. And he smelled funny which would make them smell funny which would mean a bath every day, a fate worse than losing the blue plate. Rhia glowered at Chiana and slumped over her ugly, plain, *gray* plate, depressed. Food never tasted as good on the gray ones, no matter what the grownups said.   
  
It was so unfair! Everyone always wanted to stop Rhia from having any fun. Sometimes her aunts and uncles would play with her or Seth but something *always* came up that would take them away after only a little while. Rhia liked it best when she got to help fix Moya's systems, or when Mama played Escape the Intruder, or when Dad told stories.  
  
But most of the time she had to play alone or with the boys. And that wasn't as fun sometimes because they always messed everything up. Rhia had made friends with some of the refugee children on earlier runs, but they always had to leave eventually, and sometimes their parents didn't want their children talking with her because she was Sebacean. Dad had tried to explain that the Peacekeepers had hurt them and they had lost their homes and were now afraid, but Rhia didn't really understand. She had never done anything to them, so why should they hate her? She remembered one irate mother had knocked her down with a walking stick and called her the plague of the universe. Rhia had never gone back.  
  
Her sad thoughts were interrupted when the three adults sat down at the table, Jool between Rhia and her brother, and Chiana and Medri on either side of Essor across from them.  
  
"When a' we getting new food?" Seth asked when Jool dished boiled ellka roots onto his plate. Rhia regarded her own boiled roots with distaste, wondering when the last was that she had eaten anything different. They'd had scallips and tenga meat when Mom and Dad had left just after a supply run a monen ago. But when they had to feed 10 000 people, food vanished quickly. It seemed like the grownups were always talking about food: how long it would last, when they needed more, how much was left.  
  
Rhia picked up a boiled root with her fingers. They really weren't that bad, and unlike other foods they were easy to cook different ways so there was a little variety. They looked like shriveled tongues when they were boiled and had a slight crunch to them. It wasn't until she popped the root in her mouth that Rhia noticed the Significant Looks the three adults were exchanging.  
  
"As soon as we reach the next commerce planet," Medri finally replied to Seth's question.  
  
"Oh," Seth stared at the root in his hand then took a bite and chewed. "When's that?" he asked through a mouthful.  
  
"Soon we hope," said Chiana.  
  
"But Moya's sick," said Rhia remembering Pilot's 'wrong' voice.  
  
"Not sick, just tired," Medri shook his head. "She should be fine in a couple days. Pilot says she just needs rest right now."  
  
"I like 'em betta with sauce," said Seth, ignoring this last exchange.   
  
"Which sauce? The red or the orange?" asked Chiana.  
  
"Red, Chi!" Seth looked up and grinned. Flecks of white mush decorated his gums and lips.  
  
Chiana grinned back; the red sauce was the one she made. "You have exquisite taste, young sir!" she told him in her best imitation of Rygel. Seth giggled.  
  
Jealous of the attention Rhia said, "I like the red, too."  
  
"And what's wrong with my orange sauce?" Jool demanded. "It's much better with these roots than that other muck."  
  
" 'Muck'?!" Chiana sat up straighter, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You're calling *my* cooking 'muck'?!"  
  
"You call it 'cooking'?"  
  
Chiana threw a root at her, eliciting a surprised shriek from the Interion. "I can cook anything in this universe, princess, unlike *some* people who don't know which end of a carren bird to stuff!"  
  
Jool answered with an ellka root of her own, hitting Chiana square in the face. Rhia giggled at the Nebari's outraged expression and joined in the fun.  
  
"Rhia!" said Chiana in surprise when the second root hit her shoulder. Then the food fight began in earnest. Roots flew across the table thick and fast, some landing on their marks, others whizzing by to bounce off the walls. Rhia squealed as one hit her arm, clammy and warm, and immediately threw it back across the table, giggling again at Medri's yelp of surprise. She liked this game.  
  
But, much to the kids' disappointment, it ended all to soon when Rygel's voice crackled over the comms. "D'argo, anybody, get down here! They're trying to kill me, the yotzes!"  
  
There was a moment of startled silence in the center chamber before the three grownups surged to their feet. Rhia sighed. Another game ruined by the refugees. She watched sadly as Medri ran out with Jool following close on his heels. Chi dropped to a knee and gave Essor a quick hug before turning her deep black eyes to Rhia.  
  
"I want you three to stay here and start cleaning up, all right?" she looked in turn at Seth and Essor before moving back to Rhia. The little girl already knew what she was going to say. "If anything happens -"  
  
"Disappear into the access conduits," Rhia finished, desperately hoping it wouldn't come to that. Echoes of the two days the floorfleas had spent hiding from a refugee mob that had taken over Moya filled her head and made her belly flop.   
  
"Good girl." Chiana dropped a quick kiss on her forehead then ran out to help save Rygel. Again.  
  
  
  
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On his way to the upper cargo bay, Medri took a detour by his quarters to pick up his pulse rifle. Like most of Moya's crew, he already had a pulse pistol strapped to his thigh, but he'd learned the hard way that one could never have too many weapons when dealing with the refugees. He barely glanced at the weapon as he snatched it from the shelf in his sparse quarters before dashing back down the corridor.  
  
D'argo met him at the junction of the main tier and from the set of his jaw, he was far from happy. "I hate it when this happens," the warrior growled.   
  
Medri gave him a sardonic grin. "Our thanks for saving their sorry asses in the first place." D'argo barely glanced at him as Rygel's agitated voice interrupted.  
  
"Help! They're climbing the walls!! Pilot send in some DRDs, anything!" The dominar's voice was almost drowned by the shouting in the background.  
  
"I'm afraid they've incapacitated the DRDs already present," said Pilot.  
  
"Rygel, we're almost there. Just avoid them for a few more microts," said D'argo.  
  
"That's easy for you to say, you brute. Just make sure you have lots of weapons! Ahhhhggg!! You yotz!!"  
  
By unspoken agreement, Medri and D'argo increased their pace. Jool was waiting at the cargo bay doors when they arrived. From the other side, they heard the shouting and screaming of hundreds of angry voices demanding food and control of the ship. So far the refugees hadn't made it through the locked door or discovered the access conduits that, though blocked, would succumb to a nimble tech or thief.  
  
Medri put his ear to the door while D'argo checked in with the other three members of the crew still on the way. He heard too much shouting for there to be one mob leader; it was too disjointed. The spotted young man shook his head at the irony of the situation. He, who had been a professional at inciting mass riots against the Blue Government on his homeworld, was now desperately trying to stop one.  
  
"Chiana and Filalla are almost here, Emmerit's still three tiers away," D'argo informed him as he rejoined the other two. Jool was nervous, her eyes slightly larger than normal, and D'argo looked on the verge of hyper rage. All three of them had their weapons primed.  
  
"They're not organized yet," Medri said, nodding at the door over his shoulder. "If we hit now, we can probably stop it before it gets nasty."  
  
"Just the three of us?" Jool squeaked. "There's almost four hundred people in there. I could make a sleep agent..."  
  
"Because that worked *so* well last time," D'argo cut in.   
  
"We have to go now!" Medri repeated, his whole body taught with tension. He let out a slow breath when D'argo nodded in agreement.  
  
"Filalla," D'argo said into his comm, "you and Chiana will have to hold the hallway." He checked to make sure they were ready, then said, "Pilot, open the door."  
  
"We need a better plan than this!" Jool moaned, even as she shifted her grip on her rifle. Medri shook his head at her, marveling at the Interion's duality. Always the first one to advocate reason and talking out conflict, she nonetheless had a vicious streak that could lay an enemy low. "Why am I always the first one in!" But her whining was constant.  
  
"Shut up and scream!" D'argo told her.   
  
The oval door swung open onto every rebel's dream: a mob of angry people just waiting to explode. Most of the cloth partitions that separated sleeping places had been knocked down, bars and whatever other furniture they could find had been broken into makeshift weapons.  
  
"The door! To the door!" one of the rose skinned, red-eyed Hedogens shouted hysterically, pointing. There was a surge as half the refugees turned, even as other voices shouted, "No! No! Stop! This isn't right!" Above and to the left, Rygel floated on his throne-sled, dodging missiles and the three Hedogens who'd climbed up a pile of crates after him.  
  
All this Medri and his crewmates took in in a microt, before instantly bursting into action. Jool screamed, doubling over the mob with the metal melting sound even as Medri dropped the mob leader and D'argo the three after Rygel in quick, deadly succession. The silence was absolute when Jool finally closed her mouth. The Hedogens, many still grasping their ears, stared jaw-dropped at first their fallen leader then the three, armed aliens by door. Medri couldn't help but grin in pride. No one would be taking over the ship today.  
  
"Well it's about time!" Rygel snapped as he zoomed down to them. "What took you so long?!"  
  
D'argo darted a glance at the dominar, weapon still trained one the silent crowd, then asked, "What happened?"  
  
"I was simply informing their frelling council of the situation when that idiot," he pointed at the male Medri shot, "started shouting about a Peacekeeper conspiracy and tried to kill me."  
  
The crowd shifted uncomfortably under the crew's combined glare like guilty children, so lost and scared that Medri couldn't help but feel for them a little. It was little wonder they were scared and scrabbling for some kind of control. Fled onto an unknown ship that had appeared out of nowhere when their homes were being shelled by the Peacekeepers - or Scarrens, he couldn't remember which - families lost, only the clothes on their backs and the memories of a civilization now broken, and headed for a foreign planet. And worse, their precarious fate entrusted to a small, mismatched group of aliens, two of them Sebacean, with more legend around them than truth. Medri saw the fear of the uncertain in their sad red eyes, fear of losing what precious little was left they had to live for.   
  
"Why are you starving us?" a woman's voice quavered from the middle of the mob. Medri couldn't see from whom, but the question echoed in the faces of the others.  
  
"Oh, right. We just give them food 'cause we want to watch them not eat it," Chiana's sarcasm announced her presence behind them.  
  
"Where are you taking us? What happened in starburst?" the questions kept pouring out desperately, louder and louder until Medri thought his eardrums would explode. "You better tell us!" one young male near the front shouted,   
shaking his fist. His skin was two shades darker red than those around him, making him stand out. "You better tell us or -"  
  
"Or you'll what?" Medri shouted back suddenly angry at their threats. Yes, they were scared, they might have lost their home, but damned if he was going to let them take his and get them all killed by the first PK's who showed up. These people had been rockbound their whole lives and didn't have a frelling clue what they risked to keep them alive. "Take over the ship? A leviathan you have no idea how to run with a Pilot that will be against you? And then what? Pick up all the food that's just *floating* in the middle of space?" Medri stared the youth until the Hedogen broke away, then swept his eyes over the rest of the mob. They gaped back, eyes calmer and no longer in the frenzy of incited passion and fear. They were listening to him. Good, they needed a reality check. "We've been transporting refugees to safety for cycles with more success than failure. We know the Uncharted Territories. Now we can do this two ways. You can do like a handful of refugee groups did before, and *try* to take over the ship..."  
  
"But that didn't work out so well for them," Chiana piped up grinning evilly.  
  
"Ahh, the screams as we flushed them out of the airlock, hmm, hmmm, hm," Rygel chuckled, closing his eyes as if to savor the 'memory'. Though knowing Rygel, it was probably one of his daydreams.  
  
The Hedogens shuffled nervously, not liking the sound of option one. "Or," Medri continued, "we can inform your council of what's going on, so they can tell you - wait, wasn't that just what Rygel was trying to do when you attacked him?"  
  
"We don't like being attacked," D'argo added with just enough menace in his voice to cause the crowd to pull into itself, away from the bodies on the floor. "Now if you prefer to do it our way, let Rygel talk to your council and the rest of you go back to what you were doing." Grudgingly it seemed, the Hedogens dispersed, leaving Moya's crew at the door.  
  
"That was close," Jool sighed, letting her rifle dangle loosely from her fingers.   
  
"Frelling idiots," Medri groused. "Think they can just make it on their own."  
  
Emmerit nodded in agreement and slid her pistol back into its holster. "I'm getting too old for this," she said and Medri couldn't help but snort in dry amusement with the others. However old Emmerit claimed to be, she was still as spry as a youth.   
  
"Come on," said D'argo. "We better go check on the other groups before they try to kill us too."  
  
"I am not staying here without a bodyguard!" Rygel interrupted the general move towards the oval door.  
  
"Rygel -" D'argo started, but Medri laid a restraining hand on his arm.  
  
"I'll stay. It'll remind them that we're the ones in control here."   
  
D'argo nodded once. "Fine. When you're done tell Pilot. We still have a lot of repairs to do." The Luxan turned and followed Emmerit, Jool, and Filalla out the door. Chiana however sidled up to Medri.  
  
"You were magnificent - reminded me of the first time we met," she whispered, though much to Medri's disappointment that's all she did. With a wink and smile that dropped Medri's spots four shades of yellow, the Nebari slowly turned and left the cargo bay.  
  
"Medri!" Dren, he couldn't wait till D'argo took the kids.  
  
"I'm coming, Ryg." Reluctantly he turned away from Chiana's retreating backside and followed the floating dominar.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 2: What the Hell?  
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The Earth was beautiful. Commander Jason Klee never tired of the view. Every time he passed a window, he always took a moment to look at the blue and white orb, floating so innocently outside the International Space Station's window. From 400 kilometers up, she looked so peaceful, as if the bubbling conflicts on her surface were no more annoying than a couple of itches that would soon go away.  
  
Jason smiled to himself as his thoughts turned poetic and pushed off the wall under the window of the crew's common room towards the hatch that led to the rest of the station. Time to pull his head out of the clouds so to speak, and start thinking about the telescope realignment at 15:00.  
  
"Hey, Jason."  
  
"Hi, Eric," Jason reached his right hand to the wall to avoid a collision with his incoming German engineer. "I didn't catch you at breakfast. Any more problems sleeping?" he asked.  
  
The black haired man waved a dismissing hand. "No. Becky gave me half of a sleeping pill. Once I was asleep I was fine."  
  
"Good," Jason smiled. "Wouldn't want you to conk out while you're EVA."   
  
"Not likely," Eric answered, giving a push and floating to his locker nearby. "No way in hell I'm missing a minute - "   
  
"Commander Klee, could you please come to the command cell," Rita Masson's voice issued through the Space Station's intercom system. Jason exchanged a puzzled look with Eric as he pushed himself toward the communications panel on the opposite wall.  
  
"Klee here, in the crew quarters. What's the problem?"  
  
There was a pause then Rita said, "I'm not sure but you really need to see this."  
  
"I'm on my way." With a last glance at Eric, Jason kicked himself through the hatch at a faster than safe speed, legs trailing behind him like Superman flying through a maze. Within two minutes he was in the command cell with a hand on the bulkhead keeping him oriented 'upright' in the zero G.   
  
"What's going on?" he asked the rooms two occupants, Rita in front of the main panel that controlled most of the stations external functions, and Brian Santi plastered to the window above on the right.  
  
Rita turned away from the radar, her expression calm and professional, though Jason thought he saw a glitter in her eyes that might or might not have been her heart thumping a thousand times too fast. "Take a look at this," she said, moving aside and pointing at the radar. A rather large blip flashed periodically where there shouldn't have been a blip. Jason stared at the monitor, mind blanking out for a second. Despite his poetic tendencies, Jason was a scientist through and through, a scientist who knew that the radar should have spotted something that large well before it got between the orbits of Earth and Venus. He was about to ask if there had been any problems recently with the equipment when Brian let out a surprised gasp.  
  
"I see something," the youngest member of the station's crew breathed. Rita and Jason immediately joined him at the window. "It's about 15 degrees below the horizontal. Gold." It took a moment for Jason to find it, a gold star slightly larger than those glittering diamond.  
  
"What the hell is it?" asked Rita. Stunned, no one answered.  
  
Snapping back to himself, the practical side of Jason took charge. Shoving back into the open area he began giving orders. "Ok, first thing, Rita, alert the crew. Second, get every instrument we have tracking that thing. Brian, I want you to get a line down to Canaveral and Houston. Rita, what time did that thing appear?"  
  
"13:18," she answered switching on the station's intercom.   
  
Jason barely heard her alerting the crew. His mind was racing, asking questions, wondering what that speck of gold was. 376 AD, July 4th 1776, December 7th 1941, September 11th 2001, 13:18 April 5th 2010. Jason had feeling this was another date he wasn't going to forget.  
  
  
  
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The small workroom on the third floor of the Shepherd Building was abuzz with activity when the call came in. In fact, the small group of engineers and two astronauts barely looked up when the phone rang. They had more pressing matters to worry about, like how much farther the Slingshot Maneuver would take the manned Farscape III carrying enough fuel to get home, and how much exactly 'enough' was. But when DK, the leader of the Farscape Project, let out a strangled "WHAT?!" all movement and conversation ceased.   
  
"Are you serious?" DK said into the phone then glanced up at his team who were listening hard. "We'll be right over!" he finally said and hung up. At first he didn't say anything, just stared back at his waiting colleagues with a slightly stunned expression on his face. "Something," he took a deep breath. "Something showed up on the Space Station radar about half an hour ago. Something big between Earth and Venus. ISS got a visual. It's big and gold and not natural." Suddenly there was a huge grin on his face. "We've been invited to the SSC."  
  
The Farscape team stared back. "Oh my God!" breathed Yora Maganova. A minute later the workroom was empty, a fluttering piece of paper drifted to the floor in the wake of the excited scientists.  
  
  
  
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"So you're telling me that the Saudis are getting ready to pull out?" President Landers regarded the three serious men facing him. Two of them wore the dress uniforms of generals, the third on the right was in a dark gray suit. None of them were smiling.   
  
Sighing, the president stood and crossed the Oval Office to his desk to stretch his legs. Just what they needed right now, one of their Muslim nations to back out of the treaty. If Saudi Arabia didn't sign there was no way Pakistan would.   
  
"So, Andrew, what's your take on this?" he asked his Secretary of State. Leaning against the desk, he rubbed his eyes under the rim of his glasses. A couple of Excedrin would have been really good about five minutes ago.   
  
The man in the gray suit, flipped through the folder on his lap and pulled out a piece of paper, but before he could open his mouth the phone rang. Hissing in annoyance, Landers reached behind himself for the phone and answered.  
  
"This better be good," he snapped.   
  
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. President," Landers' aide said, the customary apology a tad too excited, "but the director of IASA, Phil Oursler, is on line two."  
  
"NASA?"   
  
"Um, I-ASA, sir. The space program went international around the turn of the century."  
  
"Oh. What the hell does he want that can't wait till later?"  
  
"He asked to tell you himself, sir. Trust me, you want to take this."  
  
"I want to take this?" Landers was skeptical.  
  
"You *want* to take this," his aide repeated. Great.   
  
"Fine. Thanks." Sighing again, Landers shifted on the desk so he could reach the buttons on the phone. "Excuse me, gentlemen, this will only take a minute," he said to the waiting men. He glanced at the clock on the wall as Oursler introduced himself: 1:53. Damn, he'd missed lunch again.  
  
"Mr. President," Oursler intoned once they finished with the pleasantries, "the International Space Station picked up a signal on radar between the orbits of Venus and Earth at 1:18 today. They got a confirmed sighting."  
  
Landers knew he was missing something important here, other than the Saudis that is. "And?"  
  
"Mr. President, we think we have an alien ship out there."  
  
Maybe his sanity too. "A what?"  
  
  
  
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Space Station Control was in a state of controlled chaos that had perhaps sprung a few leaks at the seams. In addition to the team on watch, support teams had been called in to help monitor and analyze the data pouring into the room from the Space Station, the satellites, and the various space observation centers around the globe, as precious little of it as there was.   
  
DK glanced around the busy room then back to the central monitor that held the image of the golden ship. Truth was, whether they were needed or not, no one in the room could stay away. Not with *that* out there. Waiting.  
  
"DK, you're drooling," his friend and colleague Yora Maganova came up and pressed a cup of coffee into his hand.  
  
"Bite me," he smiled down at the petite brunette, the remarkable young woman who had revived the Farscape Project five years after John had flown his last mission.   
  
"Much as I'd like to, I actually came to tell you the briefing starts at three. Tony wants us there," she said lightly.  
  
"Government finally show up?"  
  
"Brass, bigwigs, and butter knuckles," Yora grinned. At DK's puzzle look she added, "something my dad used to say."  
  
" 'Butter knuckles'?" DK asked chuckling.  
  
"You know, butter their knuckles and the rings slip right off," Yora told him with a pantomime. "Come on, we don't want to be late."  
  
Still grinning, DK followed Yora to the large conference room upstairs that was already packed to the gills. Every seat was taken and chairs had been added on the sides. Half of the Maroon team who'd been on watch, various engineers and astronauts, government suits, and the First Contact Team filled every available space. Commander Klee from the Space Station and Peter Clark from the main SETI dishes in the Caribbean were both on the computer screen at the end of the table.  
  
The briefing revealed very little information about their unknown visitors, and none of it was new for over half of the audience. At 13:18 one of the Space Station's cameras picked up a flash of light. Two point four seconds later the gold ship appeared on radar on the Space Station, in the SSC, and on various other space monitoring stations in the Western Hemisphere. Since its mysterious arrival the ship had been drifting about halfway between the orbits of Venus and Earth but no signals had yet been sent.  
  
"So now the question is," said Tony Prow, Maroon Team's Flight Director who was running the show, "what do we do now?"  
  
"Isn't that obvious?" asked Jeremy Seymore, head of the First Contact Team. "We follow first contact procedure and send them the prime number signal!" DK smiled at his enthusiasm, and he wasn't the only one. Hell, half the people in the room wanted to get right to the talking.   
  
The government men, and one woman DK noted, looked less than thrilled. "How do we know they aren't a threat to us?" one of them asked.  
  
"We don't," was Jeremy's bubbling reply. "It could be another Independence Day scenario for all we know. But they could be peaceful. And we'll never know unless we contact them. I've spent the last hour talking to the other members of the First Contact Commission all over the world and that's our recommendation."  
  
"Besides, how would we stop an attack from space anyway?" one of the other engineers DK didn't know spoke up reasonably. "We have no global defense system. Our best bet is to establish ourselves as a peaceful planet."   
  
DK heard a couple of derisive snorts from the background at the last comment, and sadly enough had to agree. He could see it now: yes, Mr. Alien were peaceful. We only like to kill members of our *own* species who are different from us. God, when had he gotten so cynical?  
  
"What choice do we have?" Daniel Bradley, one of the astronauts, added. "They're gonna notice us sooner or later. Make me feel better if we contact them while they're still a ways out." Others murmured in agreement.   
  
The government types didn't really put up much of an argument; they probably hadn't been planning on shutting Earth's figurative mouth anyway. A few more minutes of discussion and several international telephone calls later, 16:00 was set for the PNS transmission, giving them just under an hour. DK left then with a dozen others wanting to get a good seat in the control room, leaving the haggling over who would represent Earth for her first contact with an alien race.  
  
"So, you having kittens yet?" Yora joined him in the hallway. DK laughed and let loose some of the tension he hadn't realized had built up in his system.  
  
" 'Rattlers' is what the colonel used to say," he smiled thinking of John's dad. "It's just real all of a sudden, you know?" He looked intently at his friend and from the gleam in her eye knew that she understood what he couldn't quite say. Aliens. God, John would have loved this. Mixed in with the thrill of the discovery, DK felt a twinge of regret and pain that his friend wasn't here to share this with.  
  
  
  
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Sometimes Shannon Lucas hated her job. Take this morning for instance. She'd woken up with the knowledge that because of a minor in geology and a difference in opinion with her boss, she had been reassigned as WWSK6's new IASA correspondent. In newscaster's lingo, she was Sleeping on Canaveral, the most unsought after assignment there was. IASA, like NASA before, kept an open channel for the media, the catch was that her boss thought one had to actually be on site to listen to the minding numbing, incomprehensible conversation between the geeks in Space Station Control and the braver geeks in the actual Space Station. So it was no wonder that sometimes Shannon hated her job.  
  
Then there was now when she couldn't stop thanking whatever bad luck she had that got her posted to this - former - journalistic wasteland. Shannon had struck gold. Or rather the Space Station's radar had. Shannon had returned from a rather late lunch to find the Kennedy Space Center in an uproar and it hadn't taken her long to figure out why.   
  
The story had actually broken about around two o'clock, when the White House and State Department suddenly started making calls to the UN, NSA, and the EU. Shannon had only been too happy to confirm the rumors flying around Washington.  
  
"You ready to go?" her cameraman asked from the other side of the tripod. Shannon grinned at him and straightened her shoulders.  
  
"Anytime, David," she answered.   
  
David started the countdown with his left hand while Shannon smiled broadly for the camera, waiting for the little voice in her ear that would tell her when to speak. She didn't have long to wait. "And now we take you live to Shannon Lucas at the Kennedy Space Center."  
  
"Thanks Debra," said Shannon to the anchor in Orlando. "I'm standing just outside the Kennedy Space Center, home of Space Station Control where less than three hours ago, at 1:18 PM, the International Space Station reported an unidentified object between the orbits of Earth and Venus on radar. Since then, reports have been coming in from monitoring sites all over the nation confirming the presence of an alien craft. As we speak, the International First Contact Commission is transmitting the Prime Number Sequence to the alien ship in an effort to establish peaceful contact. The sequence is composed of prime numbers, which are the numbers that are only divisible by one and themselves and a mathematical truth that the alien ship should recognize. Representatives from the State Department and the United Nations are standing by for a return signal."  
  
"When will know the outcome of the signal?"   
  
"No one knows for certain," Shannon reported. "Because of the distances involved, there will be at least a thirty second delay between transmission and reception of the signal. Now all we can do is wait."  
  
"Thank you Shannon. We will definitely check back with you later," Debra's voice switched off and David stopped rolling film.   
  
Shannon glanced back at the building where all the excitement was taking place. The parking lot was already filled with news vans and staff stuck on the outside with no space left in the pressroom. Waiting.  
  
  
  
  
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Chapter 3: Isn't that...?  
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Chiana twisted the bolt as tightly as she could, trying to ignore Filalla's cursing in the background. He was pretty tenacious when it came to swearing, inventing new and rather creative insults in about fifteen languages that the prudish microbes refused to translate. Of course, there were only a few Chiana didn't know. But as dirty as her mouth was, the Nebari did have her limits as to how much she could listen too.  
  
"Just break the frelling thing already!" she snapped then grunted as at last the bolt crunched against the backing, assuring that the cable wouldn't slip out again anytime soon.  
  
"I thought the point was to *repair* Moya's fried circuits," Filalla snapped back snidely. "How can I do that if my tools are broken?"  
  
"Since you're doing such a wonderful job not hurting yourself," Chiana retorted, finally turning from the panel she'd been working on. She stood on one side of the neural nexus, extra fiberwire littered the floor around her feet. Filalla was working two panels to the left separating melted wires with a sort of heated knife that was doing more damage to him than the wires.  
  
The three-legged man glared at her, blisters bright blue on his pale, unlucky fingers. "I'd like to see you do better," he retorted.   
  
Chiana rolled her eyes and turned back to her cables that would, hopefully, with Filalla's wires straightened out, get Moya's external sensors at least functioning. She heard a plastic crackle behind her as Fil inspected the diagram of what his melted mess should look like, then the buzz of the hot knife as he got back to work.   
  
"Goddamned gazonian wiskerbot!!"   
  
Chiana just shook her head and focused on the cables. There was just no changing some people. Thus the Nebari suffered through Filalla's indelicate language as they repaired the relay. After securing the last cable, she stepped over to see how he was coming along.  
  
"You know," Fil interrupted his tirade when he noticed her over his shoulder. "When I first came on Moya I knew less than a welnitz about tech work. Now look at me, better than my own frelling mechanics," he chuckled dryly. He pulled back and looked at the diagram again. "I just have to switch a couple connections and I think we'll have it." He looked over his shoulder at Chiana and grinned in sudden pride. "Kinda fun isn't it?" he said. The Nebari just rolled her eyes.  
  
A few microts later the relay was fixed. Or so Chiana hoped. "Pilot? We think we got the first array put back together. Moya picking up anything?"  
  
"Yes," came Pilot's answer over the comm. "It is weak but more than we had before."  
  
"Any idea where we are?" Fil asked as he sat down on the ledge that surrounded the central ladder, pulling his leftmost leg up under his arms.  
  
"A solar system. Possibly planets. You'll have to repair at least the second array before Moya can get stronger readings."  
  
"We're on it, Pilot," Filalla sighed and rose. Chiana helped him move their equipment to the next two panels. The second array didn't take nearly as long as the first to fix, which made Chiana happy because she only had to listen to Filalla swear for half the time. One would think three-legs would have gotten the hang of the hot knife by now, but no, he was still burning himself as if he *wanted* the blisters. Although Chiana thought it was more to have something to yell at than anything.  
  
"Ok, Pilot," she called when they'd finished. Fil inspected his poor hands while they waited for Pilot's response. "You better have Jool look at those," she told him earning herself another glare. But before he could reply with a suitably scathing remark, Pilot came back.  
  
"Moya's readings are much clearer now," he said. "We're in a solar system between two planets."  
  
"And?" Jool's voice floated over the comms, impatient as usual.  
  
"One of them appears habitated," their navigator offered.  
  
Habitated. Chiana glanced at Filalla seeing her worry reflected in his face. "Any idea where we are?" he asked again.  
  
"I've been going over the vectors from the starburst, but it will take a while longer to find our relative position. Moya is still...unsettled."  
  
"I'm almost finished with tier sixteen," Medri's voice echoed over the comm - he was probably the inside a wall. "Chi, if you go ahead and start on the third relay, we'll probably be done at the same time."  
  
"Pilot, what about that planet?" D'argo broke in. "Any sign of Scarren or PK activity?"  
  
"Moya is having trouble sorting through the signals. Wait..." said Pilot. He paused and there was silence. Chiana found herself holding her breath, just knowing she didn't want to hear him say it because - "There's...one signal that is... aimed at us!" - it was always bad news.  
  
"Frell!" the Nebari joined the chorus. "Defense screen!" D'argo yelled, catalyzing Chiana and Filalla into action on the opposite side of the neural nexus.  
  
  
  
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"Pilot, does the signal have words with it?" D'argo demanded even as he and Jool got to work powering up the defense screen in command. Of course, until Chiana and Filalla plugged it into Moya, it was useless.  
  
"No, it is a series of tones...audio only," Pilot told him from the clamshell. A moment later, a repetitive beeping echoed through the room: "...beep beep beep...beep beep beep beep beep... beep beep beep beep beep beep beep..."  
  
  
"They get longer then start short again," Pilot said over the mechanical tones.  
  
"I do not like the sound of that," Jool said. D'argo couldn't agree more. Frantically, he tried to get his fingers to move faster connecting wires, cursing in ancient Luxan when he realized he'd wired the pattern of an older model. Like all the defense screens they'd gone through over the cycles, this one had been scavenged from a defunct vessel and was, as John noted, in remarkably better shape then many of their previous ones. And as Aeryn had pointed out, that wasn't saying much.  
  
"Can we see what's trying to kill us yet?" the Luxan asked, redoing the circuits.  
  
"You'll have to do it from command," Pilot told him. "The signal is coming from the planet's surface." Jool immediately rushed over to the right-hand consol, and a microt later, a fuzzy picture formed on the view screen.  
  
"Defense screen's hooked up," Chiana panted over the comm. D'argo flipped on the power and felt the hum as the screen spluttered to dubious life around them. Feeling slightly better, the Luxan finally took a look at the cause of his heart attacks, and blinked. Hadn't he been here before?  
  
"Haven't we been here before?" he asked Jool who gave him a strange look that clearly meant no. D'argo shook his head, maybe it was just him. But...  
  
"There has been no change in the signal," said Pilot.  
  
And then D'argo thought he had it, but the name slipped away again. He'd been a prisoner there with Rygel. A long time ago. Aeryn had been there too; they'd gone after John...Frell.  
  
"Rygel, can you come up to command?" he said impatiently, both hoping and dreading he was right. "We have the planet on visual."   
  
Filalla and Chiana were actually the first to arrive, the Nebari stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the planet. D'argo glanced back and saw her open her mouth twice and raise a hesitant finger.  
  
"Isn't that...?"  
  
"Crichton's planet," Rygel breathed coming up behind her, eyes wide in surprise.  
  
"WHAT?" Filalla and Jool exclaimed together, looking back and forth among the three.  
  
"What what?" asked Emmerit pushing past the stunned Nebari who was still gaping at the little planet. D'argo couldn't blame her, since he felt the same way. John had practically given up searching for his homeworld cycles ago when he'd gone after Scorpius, destroying the very technology that could take him home. And now here they were. Wherever here was.  
  
"Pilot, how long till Moya can get us the frell away from here?!" Rygel demanded.  
  
"Our situation has not greatly changed," Pilot informed them.  
  
"Then we have no choice. We're almost out of food," said Emmerit. D'argo turned with the others to stare at her.  
  
"No choice?! They imprisoned me!" Rygel sputtered.   
  
"Frell," D'argo muttered. Just once, he wanted an option that wasn't likely to be fatal. "Chiana, are they going to kill us?"  
  
The pale woman shrugged her shoulders. "My heaving gut says I'm still in shock."  
  
"If it's trade with them or starve, I'm for trading," said Jool. "Besides we still don't know if that frelling signal is targeting us or just their concept of music."  
  
"That's not music," said Filalla.  
  
"Have you heard John sing?" Jool replied.  
  
"All for finding out if were going to be atomized? Good," D'argo cut in, not giving anyone a chance to reply; Rygel's protests were quickly clamped off by Chiana's hand over his mouth. "Pilot, let's talk to them."  
  
"Just a moment. I have to reconfigure the transmission for their... systems." There was a pause, then Pilot looked up. "Moya is connected to the source of the signal."  
  
D'argo turned to the blue planet on the viewscreen and said in his commanding voice, "I am Ka D'argo of the Leviathan Moya. What is the meaning of the signal directed at us?"  
  
"So much for diplomacy," he heard Jool mutter behind him. D'argo glared at her - frell diplomacy, that was Rygel's job.  
  
They waited in nervous silence for a reply. Microts stretched out longer and longer until time itself seemed on the point of breaking. Erp stared back at them, mocking their helplessness against a primitive planet.   
  
"Chiana-"  
  
"I don't know!" she snapped back.  
  
"Attention," said Pilot. "We are receiving return audio and visual." A microt later a crackling image clarified on the viewscreen revealing three Humans in coats and white shirts. All three appeared male, the two on the sides rather reserved, but the central one was clearly excited.  
  
"Hello," said the one in the middle. "Welcome to Earth." A big smile plastered itself across his face and, tension broken, D'argo had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm afraid we don't understand your language but we are willing to attempt communication if you have the means to do so. If you can understand me now, please nod your head." He stopped. D'argo swore.  
  
"Frelling perfect!" he shook his head and growled with pent up frustration. "Pilot-"  
  
"Transmission is terminated," the purple image informed him.  
  
"What do we do now?" asked Filalla, his legs disturbingly braided as he leaned against the strategy table.  
  
"Since they can't understand us, I say forget the planet and get the frell out of here."   
  
"We could send a probe with microbes to the surface," suggested Pilot, ignoring the dominar without effort.  
  
D'argo shook his head. "They'd see it as a threat. From what John's told us, the Humans probably can't hurt us, but it's been ten cycles..."  
  
"And they'd never trade with us then," added Emmerit.   
  
"Not like we can trade now," said Jool bitterly from her perch on the table beside Fil. "Without John we have no one who can speak their barbaric language." And there was the problem. D'argo looked from the Interion's slumped frame to Chiana and Filalla shaking their heads, to Emmerit, then Pilot.   
  
"Hey," Medri's voice broke the silence over the comms. "We finished sealing the compression hatches. We still being targeted?"  
  
"We're not sure," Fil answered. "They can't understand us. You might want to come up here."  
  
They heard Medri sigh. "Right."   
  
"I still say we should-"   
  
"Shut up!" several voices shouted at Rygel causing him to pull back in his thronesled. It really was two bad the Ancients hadn't actually dissected the little slug.  
  
"Hey," Medri's voice popped back. "Rhia wants to know if she still has to take a bath today."  
  
Chiana hissed in annoyance. "Yes, the little mongrel has-" She stopped. The Nebari had a strange look on her face, head tilted in that way of hers that said she was up to something.   
  
"What?" asked D'argo.   
  
"Rhia can speak Human."  
  
  
  
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Chapter 4: Did she say...?  
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It had been ten minutes. Ten long minutes since the aliens had finally responded to the prime number sequence. Ten minutes since the thirty second exchange that currently had about a hundred scientists debating translating computer programs, universal translators and other off-the-wall guesses from literature and the movies. But even as he argued against Star Trek's solution, DK couldn't help but wonder if they'd accidentally started an intergalactic incident by somehow pissing off the tentacled alien. He didn't seem like the type of creature you wanted to anger, and who knew what kind of cultural taboo they'd accidentally committed.  
  
"Heads up! We've got incoming!" someone called across the room. The SSC went silent as everyone turned toward the central screen that once again flickered to life with the visage of the tanned and tattooed alien they'd seen before. He rumbled a few words in an almost electronic growl, then a new voice followed. In English.  
  
"Hello." The voice was light and high like a child's. "Dargo says to tell you that I'm gonna translate for him since you don't have microbes." American accent.  
  
  
DK didn't know whether to be shocked and outraged or shocked and disappointed - was this all some elaborate hoax? And from the shell-shocked expressions on everyone else's faces, he wasn't the only one feeling completely flabbergasted. There was a whispered conversation bouncing back and forth between the communications, radar, and flight director's stations that suddenly ended with all parties involved staring at the screen in renewed awe. A moment later, Jeremy as designated spokesman addressed the aliens.  
  
"Welcome to Earth," he said remarkably composed.   
  
"The signal's coming from that ship!" Dan Bemear whispered to DK and Yora. The two scientists momentarily tuned out the official conversation to get the scoop that was running like fire though the room. "There's no doubt about it."  
  
"So how come they speak English?" Yora whispered back, clearly excited.   
  
Dan shrugged. "I guess were gonna find out." They glanced back to the screen in time to hear Jeremy ask that very same question.  
  
The alien growled something and looked like it was ready to bite someone's head off. There was a moment's silence before the translator spoke again. "I'm not supposed to say that," it whispered. Another voice spoke in the background, different form the first one and much easier on the ears. The alien on the screen sighed and looked to the side, then spoke again, and this time the translator put it into English right away.  
  
"He says that how I speak your language is too complicated to explain, and it's not important anyway. His name's Ka Dargo, and he wants to know what that first signal you sent was."  
  
"The signal was the prime number sequence," Jeremy answered surprised. "It was our attempt at communication, to show you that we are peaceful and wanted to talk."  
  
There were more alien murmurings in the background that Dargo stopped with another sharp sentence and a glare over his shoulder. The transmission only showed the alien's head so they couldn't see who he was talking to. Curiouser and curiouser.   
  
  
"I guess mathematics isn't as universal as we thought," Yora whispered. DK could only nod his agreement as they listened to the rest of the conversation unfold between Jeremy, the alien, and the mysterious translator.  
  
"So it's not going to kill us?" the translator interpreted.  
  
"No. We have no intention of harming you."  
  
"What about your government?"  
  
"Our governments are only interested in peaceful contact."  
  
There was a spate of yet another alien language in the background and several others including the one on the screen yelling in unison. The English speaker didn't translate. DK exchanged a look with Yora and Dan. This was absolutely nothing like Star Trek.  
  
"Um," Jeremy sounded hesitant for the first time. "May I ask what your intentions are here concerning Earth?"  
  
"Our intentions are to trade," the translator waited for Dargo to continue. "We need food and have currency to pay for it. Will that be possible?"  
  
"Just like Columbus coming to America," Yora murmured in the ensuing silence.  
  
"And us just like the Indians thinking they were benevolent gods," DK added with a wry smile. "Sure hope history doesn't repeat itself." The thought was sobering in an already tense situation. He exchanged another look with his friend, but neither of them said anything more.  
  
"I'm sure we can come to an agreement," Jeremy finally responded.  
  
"Good. When will you have a supplier ready to negotiate?" The aliens got right to the point, throwing Jeremy off balance.  
  
"Uh... we'll have to get back with you on that," he stammered. "Will you be landing?"  
  
"Only to pick up our supplies. It's safer that way."  
  
"Very well," said Jeremy, his tone indicating he was far from satisfied. In fact, no one in the room was satisfied. Here were the Earth's first aliens and what did they want to do? Trade. Period. With as little contact with them as possible. It wasn't supposed to be like this! And even as he thought it, DK knew he was acting like a spoiled five year old instead of the forty-five year old scientist he was. Intellectually, he knew that different cultures never trusted each other when they suddenly stumbled onto one another; he had only to look at Earth's rocky history to see the evidence of that. But in his heart it was all wrong, twisted.  
  
"We'll contact you again in four arns," the translator went on, and Dargo started to move away.  
  
Jeremy spoke in a rush, "What's an arn?!!"   
  
"It's time, 3 000 microts." Dargo added something else and the translator giggled, much to everyone's surprise. It was the first time the light voice had distinguished itself as another distinct being. "No, that's not right. It's 'one missi*ss*ippi one.' That's a microt."  
  
The room went still, hardly a person dared breathe.  
  
" 'Mississippi'?" asked Jeremy hoarsely.  
  
The alien growled again, the translator said, "Four arns," and then they were gone.  
  
Definitely not Star Trek.   
  
  
  
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"What did he mean, they're not releasing the tapes?" Shannon asked a fellow journalist in outrage as they left the very brief press conference. "The people have a right to know what's going on, dammit! I hate the government with their self righteous 'national security'!"  
  
"And don't you just love how the US government is telling an international agency what to do?" her new friend said.  
  
"I swear if this is another conspiracy..." Shannon shook her head. The government really had no clue sometimes. Didn't they realize that by withholding the tapes of the first alien contact they were making the situation worse? So they wanted to analyze the close encounter, but Shannon couldn't help but wonder if that "analyzing" was really doctoring. It would just be like the government to stage this whole thing to refocus attention away from the failing situation in the Middle East. There was a '90's movie about something like that, funny but definitely scary.   
  
"I wouldn't worry about conspiracies. Not with all of us here," the journalist told her with a vicious smile. Shannon grinned back. There was absolutely nothing the press couldn't ferret out eventually, and with something this big... Oh yeah, the truth was coming out.  
  
  
  
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"Dan, we're dying over here!" DK whined into the speaker phone on the desk. Due to the flood of government people called to Canaveral, only relevant personnel were allowed into the briefing room. Unfortunately, the Farscape team didn't qualify and was thus shunted back to their building to wait for someone to call. 'Someone' turned out to be Dan Bemear who needed some of their statistical data.  
  
"DK, we still don't really know anything. Besides, aren't you supposed to be figuring out how the hell they got here in the first place?"  
  
"From a flash of light? You've got to be kidding me. Come on, what's going on?" DK glanced around at his anxious colleagues who were huddled around the phone like freezing men and women to a fire.  
  
"Right now it's just a bunch of guesses," Dan told him, voice nonetheless eager to share. "That red stuff that appeared we think is some sort of communications device, though why it's still there we have no idea. Some general thinks they're listening in to our satellite communications to get a feel for us."  
  
"So it's not a shield like we first thought?"  
  
  
"Come on, DK. The thing appeared a good fifteen minutes after we sent the signal. If they thought it was a threat they would have put it up earlier. And they contacted us just after they did. Besides the thing has so many shifting holes it would be useless as a shield."  
  
"Okay, okay. What else?" DK ran a hand through his hair, grinning at Yora across from him. The petite woman flashed her teeth back, a smile echoed by the others.  
  
"No one thinks it's military," Dan continued. "So far it's not aggressive - "  
  
DK groaned. "We *know* that, Dan. What about the language thing and the English?"  
  
"Man, know one knows about the English speaker. Pretty X-Files if you ask me. But the running theory on the languages is that those microbes they mentioned are a type of Babble Fish."  
  
"Hitchhiker's Guide?"  
  
"Yeah. Something else doing all the work. That's all we've got down here, DK. Now do I get some help?"  
  
"I don't know, what do you think guys?" he asked the rest of the team.  
  
"It's pretty sketchy," said Jeff.  
  
"Not a lot to go on at all," added Yora.  
  
"Guys..." Dan moaned. "This is not funny."  
  
Over the mild laughter, DK soothed their harried informant. "I'll deliver the files personally."  
  
  
  
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Chapter 5: Can I ask a question?  
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When D'argo had asked Rhia to translate for the Humans, she had been all excited and happy. She was getting to do *grownup* work, with her father's people no less. And even though she was disappointed that she could only say what D'argo said, she was still excited and maybe a little nervous. Now, arns later, she was bored.  
  
She'd been translating for Rygel almost three arns and nothing had happened. The Humans had been very suspicious at first, wanting all these questions answered before they agreed to trade. Rygel basically told them they wouldn't get answers unless they traded, and wouldn't answers be a much more valuable currency. At least that's what she thought he meant. She didn't understand half of what he said and eventually had given up when her head started to hurt.  
  
The Humans took forever to agree. Then they disagreed again when they found out they needed food for 10 000 people and it had taken another forever to get them closer to agreeing once more. In the middle of Rhia's stomach she felt a hole of disappointment in the Humans. They were unbelievably dumb. Didn't they see they were on a *leviathan* and had no weapons to hurt them, even if they wanted to? All the talk about invasion forces and motivations and weapons was like they thought they were *Peacekeepers* and made the ellka roots roll in Rhia's belly with the wrongness.  
  
"You haven't given us much reassurance," the Human on the screen said. Rhia had long since forgotten his name.  
  
"Species have traded for millennia without trusting each other," Rygel answered through Rhia. "What makes this any different? You deliver food, we deliver information."  
  
"How do we know you'll deliver?"  
  
"How do we know you won't capture us and dissect us for your own perverse curiosity?" Rygel countered. "It's a risk we are willing to take. This is a trade agreement. You send us an offer and we will send you a counter offer."  
  
"Rygel?" Chiana burst over the comms. "You haven't said anything about Rhia have you?" she asked agitated.   
  
"Excuse me a moment," said Rygel and Rhia quickly did, slightly frightened. The Human was surprised but simply nodded.  
  
"Don't tell them about Rhia," the Nebari said.  
  
"Why not? It's her planet," asked Rygel.  
  
"I've just got a feeling, all right? Don't tell them."  
  
Rhia felt cold. Chiana's feelings always came true, even if half the time she didn't know what they meant. To have one about her...that was scary. The look Rygel shot her gave her the shivers. If Rygel was worried...   
  
More than a little frightened, the little girl followed Rygel back into the negotiations, almost freezing when the topic shifted to her.  
  
"One question, as an act of good faith," the Human began.   
  
"Very well. Then you will trade with us?" asked Rygel.  
  
"Yes, then we will trade and allow you to land to pick up your supplies. We want to know about your translator. How does he know our language? Is he Human?"  
  
Rhia held her breath, but Rygel paused only a moment before speaking. Rhia stared at him but at his prompting repeated his answer, uncomfortable in the third person. "The translator is of a very rare species that can easily reproduce alien languages with the help of the microbes. We merely had her study some transmissions from the planet and she learned the sounds."  
  
The Human looked thoughtful, then asked, "Can she speak your language?"  
  
Rygel looked at her. "I certainly hope so. Do you think you can try?"  
  
And Rhia wondered if she could. She knew she could switch between complete Human and complete Sebacean if she wanted to, she just *did* it, though most of the time it was a mixture of the two sets of sounds. Maybe if she just picked Hynerion like she picked Human or Sebacean in her head it would do the same thing.  
  
So she tried it. "I want to speak Hynerion." And it worked; the sounds came out like Rygel sounds.  
  
"Oh my God," said the Human, clearly as impresses as Rhia was herself.   
  
It had worked! Grinning, Rhia was no longer scared or puzzled or anything except very proud of herself. From Rygel's pleased smile that he actually shared with her, she'd done good.  
  
"I assume we can expect your first list of bargaining questions within the solar day?" Rhia translated, her voice bubbly.  
  
"Uh, yeah, yes," the Human answered.  
  
Rygel had a few more instructions to relay but it didn't take long. As soon as the Human disappeared from the screen, Rhia slid off the table and ran to find the nearest person to shout her success.  
  
  
  
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"Pilot, are you sure I'm supposed to open this? It's not moving," said D'argo. He tried again but the cover wouldn't budge. Frustrated, he hit it hard with a growl, wishing he had been closer to the refugees than Medri so he could be talking to them instead. Possibly hitting.   
  
"Yes, D'argo," Pilot's voice was more than a little strained. "If the DRD's could open it they would. Now stop interrupting!"  
  
"Fine, fine," D'argo muttered. He knew better than to push Pilot when he was touchy. The Humans had finally agreed to a set of questions that was much shorter than their first list but still way too long for the crew's taste. Since it fell mainly to him and Jool to answer them, it was no wonder the purple lug was in a bad mood.  
  
He glanced around the cramped space of this particular section in irritation, wishing, not for the first time, that John were there to take care of this mess. Of course, he'd probably be complicating things with the Humans beyond repair, but Moya would at least be in one functioning piece.   
  
Now where was that tool with the funny edging? Pawing through the box, he didn't see it. He must of left it in the other box in the main corridor. He cursed again: the closest way out was too small and the largest too far. "Seth," he called. "Seth!" There was silence in the somber corridor. Did he dare ask Pilot where the boy had disappeared to? "Seth!" No, too dangerous.  
  
Thankfully he didn't have to wait long; a faint "coming" echoed down from the right with the three cycle old just behind, blue striped DRD in tow. Running awkwardly on chubby legs, the kid nearly crashed into the toolbox before D'argo leaned to catch him. Giggles mixed with Seth's panting, drew an amused sigh from the Luxan.  
  
"Hey Seth," D'argo said setting him upright. He squatted down further so they were eye to eye. "Can you find the tool with the bumpy edge and claws like this on the end?" He curved his fingers to show him.  
  
"The Pincha Bee'le?" Seth asked, a puzzled expression marring his forehead. D'argo had no idea what he was talking about.  
  
"Yes," he answered and watched with envy as the little boy crawled through the tiny opening by the floor normally reserved for DRDs. A few minutes later he was back, correct tool grasped tightly with both hands.  
  
"What's a 'pincher beetle'?" D'argo asked, hefting it and applying it to the covering.  
  
"'Swhat Dad calls it." Trust John to name the frelling thing something incomprehensible.  
  
Seth watched squatted on his heels absolutely fascinated as D'argo worked. It took several tries to get the claws, or pinchers depending on how one thought, to take hold of the metal but eventually he pried the cover off. Inside was a mess of wire and fiber that smelled of fried circuits. Both D'argo and Seth recoiled, more than happy to leave the rest of the repairs to the DRDs. Seth helped him pack up the toolbox and push it through the opening, boy following. The Luxan sighed and began the long crawl back to his exit about fifty metras up the conduit.  
  
When finally he emerged, hands and knees aching, both Medri and Seth were there to greet him, the former smiling just a tad to broadly. D'argo glared, but Medri only grinned wider.   
  
"I talked with the Hedogens, the friendly groups that is, and explained what's going on," the spotted man began as they turned back toward the toolboxes. "They're willing to help with the pick-up. And I'll make sure they won't to kill us before arming them."   
  
"I can help, Med'i!" Seth piped up. "I can!"  
  
"Not this time," D'argo scooped him up. "You have to grow a little more first."  
  
"But I'm a big boy now!" Seth protested.  
  
"And it's time for big boys to go to bed."  
  
"No! I'm not ti'ed!" Seth wriggled and managed to get free of D'argo's large arms, slipping down on the opposite side from Medri. Within microts he had disappeared into the walls. D'argo and Medri stared at each other a moment before turning to the opening that foiled their size.  
  
"How does he do that?" the Luxan wondered aloud.   
  
Medri just shrugged. "They're still Chiana's problem."  
  
"Still your problem too?" D'argo grinned evilly, referring to bedtimes of a different sort.  
  
The pointed glare Medri gave him was not amused. "Frell off!"  
  
"Now there's an idea." He laughed when his spotted crewmate turned his back on him and stormed down Moya's corridor. Served him right for escaping the cramped access conduit. And since Seth was indeed Chiana's problem, the Luxan headed for the den to see how Pilot and Jool were doing with those Human questions.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 6: Do You Want Fries With That?  
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"I want precautions in place!" Landers snapped into the phone. "These are aliens, and I don't care what they've said, I am not trusting them as far as I can throw that ship of theirs."  
  
"Yes, Mr. President," the IASA White house correspondent replied. "We are being very careful - "  
  
"I don't want careful, I want secure. So you *listen* to what my security advisor has to say, understand?"  
  
"Sir, this is an international operation - "  
  
"That is landing on United Sates soil. I want zero problems and zero fatalities. So you *will* take the necessary precautions Giller tells you to. Or do I have to have a little chat with Congress about the budget?"  
  
"Mr. President, the IASA treaty - "  
  
"Treaties can be renegotiated." Landers snapped. Everybody hated big government, but whose fault would it be when the shit hit the fan? "Look, Locher, I'm not doing this to spite IASA. There are serious security considerations here, and it's my job to make sure that no one gets hurt by these aliens."  
  
"Yes, sir. I just feel that Giller is handling this the wrong way. Greeting them with an army is not going to generate any feelings of goodwill."  
  
"All right. I'll talk to him about disguising the army. Would that make you feel better?"  
  
"Yes. In that case, I think we would be able to fully cooperate."  
  
"Good. It was nice talking to you."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Locher hung up and Landers sighed. What a mess. The First Contact Commission had agreed to trade, and now it was up to him to make sure everything ran smoothly. Meanwhile, the rest of the world was falling apart.   
  
  
  
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Jack sat riveted in front of his television. He hadn't moved for over an hour, mesmerized by the incredible scene coming from just thirty miles away. Aliens walking on the Earth. Jack Crichton, veteran astronaut and moon walker was still pinching himself.   
  
The aliens were here to pick up their shipment of army rations bought and paid for with the answers to some 500 questions on every subject imaginable, from engineering to religion. IASA put the list up on their website with an email address for suggestions. Over three million questions had been sent in over a fourteen hour period. Many were duplicates asking about human abductions and other sensationalist things, many of which never made the final cut. Answers apparently started streaming in from the ship as soon as the first shuttle craft landed.  
  
The aliens were a sight to see. There were six of them loading the crates onto two shuttles that switched out every twenty minutes or so. There was the tall, tentacled one from the first transmission with a sword strapped to his back. Another was pale green with yellow, leopard-like spots and long, dread locked, yellow hair. The other four were the same type with pale pink skin, red eyes, red brown hair, but no discernable chin. All wore clothes in varying styles and except for Dargo, all carried black rifle like weapons.  
  
Two of the Red Eyes stood on top of the shuttle at all times, jumping from one to the other as the shuttles switched, keeping a watch on the people standing the requisite five hundred yards away. The other four were loading the supplies by manually orienting the large crates so that the shuttle lift could pick them up. The pilots expertly maneuvered the shuttles so their grunt work was minimized.  
  
Jack shook his head in amazement as the camera showed a close-up of the tentacled alien, new questions popping into his head. Why was the captain or leader loading the supplies? Why would he risk himself if the aliens were so worried about security?   
  
He watched as the alien bent over one of the crates. The newscaster stating the obvious for lack of anything constructive to say, "The alien Dargo is inspecting the crate." Jack sat forward, his interest piqued. It was the first time the alien had looked closely at a crate since he'd cracked open the first one to verify its contents.   
  
"He is sniffing? Yes, he appears to be sniffing the crate," the newscaster reported. Jack hit the mute button to shut the idiot up. Anyone with eyes could tell he was sniffing the damn thing. The green, leopard alien came over and stood beside him, and for the first time Jack could see the side arm strapped to his thigh. He shook his head to something Dargo said then leaned forward and knocked on the side of the crate. The two continued their scrutiny around the side but then stopped all of a sudden, exchanging a look and carefully backing away. Dargo said something, paused, then said something else. The green alien waved his hand toward the crate with a mocking smile before backing up even further to where the Red Eyes waited with frank anxiety. Cautiously, Mr. Tentacles opened the crate and pulled out something roughly rectangular. After a moment Jack recognized it for a bomb.  
  
So apparently did the alien, for he launched it into the air, drawing his sword over his shoulder at the same time. The camera was following the soaring bomb when a ball of red energy overtook it, exploding on impact in a flash of bright sparks that would rival any Fourth of July fireworks. Panning back down, the camera showed Dargo holding his sword to his shoulder like a rifle. Once more he spoke to empty air, the ship Jack guessed, tension evident in all of the aliens. Dargo and the green one relaxed first, seemingly satisfied, but the Red Eyes remained on edge as they began to reload the shuttle.  
  
It was then that Jack realized he'd been holding his breath. He relaxed back into the couch, relieved but confused. Who had planted that bomb? The government? One of those religious groups? Another set of terrorists? What did it mean? What would the aliens do? Why weren't they more upset about it? That was perhaps the most disturbing thing, that they kept on working as if they encountered assassination attempts all the time, as if they knew there were no more threats. Though they did seem to be working faster now.   
  
Once again the retired astronaut thought of his son. He wished John were watching this with him, talking a mile a minute, spouting theories and the latest IASA gossip. He wished John could have been there for the success of the Farscape II, the International Space Station finally going on line, Melanie's wedding, four nephews, Monday Night Football, predawn fishing trips, and a million other things Jack had never thought to treasure so closely. Now John was missing one of his dreams come true: alien contact on Earth.  
  
The phone rang, interrupting Jack's melodramatic thoughts. On the TV, another shuttle landed with more Red Eyes and an alien with three legs who immediately launched into a conversation with Dargo and Mr. Green with Yellow Spots. Worried after all.  
  
"Hello?" Jack answered the phone after the third ring.  
  
"Hey, Dad, it's me." His oldest daughter Lisa. She lived an hour south of Jack with her husband and two boys. Ever since John had died, she'd taken it upon herself to keep an eye on him. "You watching the aliens?"  
  
"Yes, I am," Jack said. "Calling to check up on me?"  
  
"Who me? Never," she denied with a smile in her voice. "But since you brought it up, how are you doing?"  
  
"I'm fine Lise," he said patiently. "I'm not going to croak from watching TV."  
  
"Watching TV and mourning John."  
  
"And why do you say that?" Jack sometimes thought Lisa was just like Leslie, psychic powers and all.  
  
"Because I've been doing the same thing since I tuned in." And apparently a little telepathy.  
  
Jack sighed. Most days he only felt the ache of healed loss when he thought about his son. Then there were the days that were nothing but reminders that left a trail of fire. The Farscape II mission had been the worst of those. Today was somewhere in between.   
  
"I'm doing okay," he finally said, realizing it was true even as he did. "You don't have to worry. DK's been by two or three times since we made contact... You didn't by any chance tell him to check up on me, did you?"  
  
"No, no, by the time I got a hold of him he was already on the way over," Lisa replied smugly, and Jack couldn't help but smile.  
  
"Can't even go to the bathroom by myself without someone wanting a progress report," he groused good naturedly.  
  
"Dad, you're only seventy. You still have five years before bathroom reports are mandatory. Until then I'm sure you can handle your zipper."  
  
"Thanks so much for your confidence!"  
  
Lisa laughed. "So what do you think?"  
  
"About what?" Jack asked, used to the subject changing without a road map.  
  
"The aliens, of course."  
  
"Of course," he smiled and watched the screen a long moment. There were two groups now loading the shuttles as fast as they could. They'd be finished soon and then gone forever. "A part of me still doesn't believe it," he finally said. "I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. The rest of me is...It's like I'm walking on the moon again. Though I never imagined it like this."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"All this. Trading. Supplies for information, armed and afraid of us. Whenever I thought of possible life out there...I thought they would be better than this."  
  
"Star Trek not Star Wars?"  
  
It was Jack's turn to chuckle. "I guess." Lisa didn't say anything more. Two of the Red Eyes were speaking with the green one. From what he'd seen here and from the released excerpts from the tapes of the other contacts, there were at least six different alien races on that ship. Six different races living and working together yet not trusting the new species. Jack probably wouldn't trust humans either if he'd been listening in to the planet's communications for the last couple of days. The news hadn't been very positive since they'd arrived, which was sad because the Earth had so much more to offer. Despite all the problems, there were a lot of good people in the world.  
  
"I miss him," he broke the silence finally. "John would have loved this."  
  
"I bet he's watching now, explaining his theories to all the other angels," said Lisa.  
  
They shared the silence then, letting the phone bill run up as they watched the final crate be loaded, and the aliens board their shuttles that gracefully ascended into the heavens.  
  
  
  
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End Part 1 


	2. The Extraterrestrial

Ray of Smoke  
by Tassos  
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Part 2: The Extra Terrestrial  
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Chapter 1: Homecoming   
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Rhia bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet, swinging her arms in wild circles on either side of her body. Every few seconds she tore her eyes from the closed hanger doors to the empty clamshell, but each time, Pilot failed to materialize. Adults were so slow. Even Seth was faster, she thought as her brother ran into the maintenance bay, out of breath.  
  
" 'Ia! You said you wait!" he wailed.  
  
"I did!" Rhia protested. She'd waited *forever* in the corridor for him to catch up, but he'd kept not coming so she had gone on without him.  
  
"Did not! You said you would but you di'n't!" repeated Seth. He plopped down on the floor next to Rhia who had resumed her dance. What was *taking* so long? They were supposed to be here now. Rhia hated waiting. She wanted to be able to *do* something, anything to not have to wait. But she couldn't and that was worst of all. A whirring from the door finally broke the attending silence as Speckles and Stipes came in followed by the rest of the crew.   
  
"They here, Chi?" asked Seth twisting to look up at the Nebari.  
  
"Yep!" she answered, and the boy pushed himself to his feet.   
  
They were here, they were here at last! Rhia hopped from foot to foot as if it would make the doors open faster. "What's taking so long?!" she asked. She'd been waiting for this day since they had left, and now that it had come it seemed longer than the whole three and a half monens that they'd been gone.  
  
*Finally*, Pilot opened the doors, dench by agonizing dench. Rhia ran forward as soon as there was a large enough gap, Seth valiantly trying to keep up on shorter legs. Above them, the transport pod made its final approach. The two children intently watched it land, not even noticing the rest of the crew come up behind them. They had eyes only for the hatch, the descending steps, and the first two people down them.  
  
"Mama, Daddy!" they shrieked, racing forward. Rhia slammed into her mother as soon as she descended the last step and wrapped her arms around her waist. A moment later Mama's strong arms lifted her into a bone crushing hug. She was smiling broadly, so Rhia did too as she hung on with all her might and inhaled the leathery, tangy smell that was her mother. Nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect.  
  
"We missed you guys so much!" she heard Dad say with Seth wrapped in a similar hug, soft black leather hiding her brother from sight. After a quick kiss on the head, Mom helped her switch places with Seth.  
  
"How's my big girl?!" Dad asked holding tight. Rhia felt her chest wanting to explode from happiness. Mom was safe and smiling, Dad was safe and smiling and nothing else mattered. She wanted to stay in this hug forever.  
  
"Crichton," said Crais above them. Rhia looked and saw him and two other grinning Sebaceans waiting to disembark.  
  
"Sorry, Crais," Dad replied setting Rhia on her feet. Immediately she latched onto his big hand with both of hers and felt a reassuring squeeze. The reunited family moved out of the way to greet everyone else; Essor broke ranks and ran up for his own one-armed hugs from his aunt and uncle. Mama still held Seth on one hip while Rhia bounced next to Dad with a solar grin on her face.   
  
When they at last headed out of the hangar, Rhia snuck a look at D'argo who smiled and nodded. He'd made her promise to wait, but now it was okay.  
  
"Dad! Dad!" she tugged on the hand she held. "Guess what we found?"  
  
He looked down with a smile then pulled her up into his arms, letting her lean back so he could look at her. "The Swiss Family Robinson."  
  
"No," Rhia brushed away the strange answer. "Earth."  
  
Dad froze, the smile slipping as he stared at her. "You found what?" he asked.  
  
"Earth. Your planet. I got to translate," said the little girl proudly. Dad looked at Mama who was just as shocked, then D'argo who nodded.  
  
"That's where our ... impossible starburst took us. We checked over the data spools and it looks like it was really there, " said Filalla.  
  
"Moya and I have the coordinates if you wish to return," added Pilot.  
  
Dad turned back to Rhia as a slow smile spread across his face.  
  
  
  
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"And I said everything exactly what D'argo said, except the bad words 'cause I can't say them till I'm big, and the Humans asked all sorts of questions - they're not very smart, but didn't shoot us like we thought - and they asked about me 'cause I could speak Human, and I can speak hynerian and some Nebari but not Luxan, but Chi had a feeling and wouldn't let them see me -"  
  
"An' I helpt fix tier 10," Seth interrupted his sister's retelling of the Earth encounter. They were on their way to Jool's quarters, one child on each side of Aeryn, to pick up their things. Dinner had been cheerful and carefully centered on Moya's encounter with Earth, mentioning only the general, child friendly account of Talyn's mission.  
  
"Did you? You'll have to show me later," Aeryn smiled.  
  
"I wasn't finished!" Rhia wailed impatiently, shaking the hand she held.   
  
Aeryn smiled even wider, reveling in the sound of her children's voices. "I'm listening, Rhia," she said and gave a squeeze to the hand firmly attached to hers.  
  
"They didn't get to see me but I got to see them and they look just like *Sebaceans*!"  
  
Aeryn wanted to laugh but held it in. "Your dad looks Sebacean," she pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, but these were *real* Humans," insisted Rhia and this time Aeryn didn't hold back, much to Rhia's perplexity. "What? What's so funny?"  
  
"I helpt fix tier 10!" Seth repeated, sticking to what he understood of the conversation. His bright eyed look of innocence made him look so much like John when he saw something amazing for the first time that Aeryn felt her breath catch. Giving in to the impulse, she dropped to her knees and pulled both of them into a hug they were more than happy to return, small fingers grabbing tightly to her shirt.  
  
"I love you both, you know that?" she told them, never wanting to let go. Her children. So much a part of her that she hurt when they hurt. Motherhood still surprised her sometimes but she wouldn't trade it for anything in the universe.   
  
"Love you too, Mama," "Love you," Rhia and Seth said back. Aeryn pulled away and met two blazing smiles with her own. She felt like she hadn't stopped smiling since they got back, and even though her cheeks were getting sore, she couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to.  
  
The rest of they way to Jool's quarters was bliss for the ex-Peacekeeper. Rhia continued her disjointed narrative with Seth interrupting every few microts to remind her that he'd helped fix tier 10, just in case she forgot. While their foray into Scarran territory had allowed her and John some time alone, Aeryn had missed the children. She missed playing with them in the morning, teaching Rhia self defense, even the screaming fits at bath time.  
  
"Sounds like you had a busy few monens," she commented when Rhia finally paused for breath.  
  
"We were *good,* Mama!" said her daughter so earnestly that Aeryn was immediately suspicious.   
  
"Good, huh? Are you sure there were no little mishaps? No one thrown out the airlock?"  
  
Rhia glanced at her feet guiltily then looked back and blurted, "The shelf was Seth's fault!"  
  
"Was not!"  
  
"He wanted to see the mold on the ceiling!"  
  
"You melted my plate!" Seth shouted back.  
  
"You ate Rygel's food!"  
  
"I was hiding from a Scarran and hadn't eaten for *days.*"   
  
Aeryn glanced sharply at her son, hoping he was talking about one of his games since no one had mentioned an attack. Seth's face was red as he and Rhia continued to shout each other's transgressions and Aeryn regretted ever opening this can of mardjools. "I'm sure you both helped clean up your messes, didn't you?" she interrupted over them, giving each her no-nonsense look. They quieted and nodded. "Good," she squeezed their hands and smiled again. "Then let's get your things back home."  
  
Grinning and immediately forgetting the fight, the two scampered into Jool's brightly decorated room pulling Aeryn with them. There wasn't much to pack up. The kids only had a few sets each of clothes, most dyed or painted bright colors. More numerous were the toys: coloring sticks and paper, blocks and puzzles fashioned from worn out mechanical parts, molded cestern from Moya's sealant glands folded into ships and animals, and various other trinkets picked up cheap, or in some cases stolen, on commerce planets. Both children kept pulling Aeryn over to see new pictures and contraptions they'd made, many unrecognizable from the objects they represented.  
  
Jool came in with another sack by the time they finished pulling everything together. "From the others' quarters," she explained, pouring the contents into the toy bag. Aeryn watched with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. For the past couple of cycles she hadn't really known what to make of Jool. Normally they treated each other with grudging respect bordering on friendship. The Interion had both changed and not changed from the stuck up brat John had brought back from the ice planet. She was still arrogant and often whined and complained, but she held up in a crisis with more backbone than Aeryn had first thought possible. Then there were the little touches of concern that seemed to come flying out of nowhere, like the offer to help with the kids while she and John were gone.  
  
"I hear they gave you a hard time," said Aeryn needing to fill the silence as she fastened the bag closed. Rhia and Seth were wrestling with the clothes bag on the bed.  
  
Jool rolled her eyes, the picture of a long suffering babysitter. "I am never giving them a bath again," she said seriously. "Never."   
  
The mental image of Jool shrieking and stomping her feet in frustration as the kids ran circles around her made Aeryn grin and the uncomfortableness fade. As much as she loved the children, Jool had always had trouble controlling them, though she was learning. "I understand. Thank you, for taking care of them." Jool smiled back.  
  
"Glad I could help. But I'm serious about the bath thing," she added, a slightly panicked expression on her face as if Aeryn might think her willingness to help would transfer to the dreaded chore.  
  
"I know." Aeryn turned to her two monsters, "Ready to go?"  
  
They nodded then ran to give Jool a hug. With a cheerful see-you-in-the-morning, they headed three tiers down towards home.  
  
  
  
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"I don't believe it," John muttered for the hundredth time. But this time D'argo heard the beginnings of hope color his friend's voice. It was late and the two of them were in the cargo bay looking over the remaining Earth food. After supper John had gone over the data spools with Pilot for himself, searching for any sign of a trap, another trick to steal the wormhole knowledge out of his brain. But he hadn't found any. Any being with the power to push an already exhausted leviathan into a second starburst would have more efficient ways of gleaning the information. At least that's what they hoped.  
  
"What's it been? Nine cycles, ten?" the Human asked absently as he ran a gentle hand over the earth lettering.   
  
"Something like that," D'argo shrugged. It was hard to tell sometimes - births, deaths, imprisonment, countless battles, it all ran together. "Pilot knows."   
  
"Yeah." John circled the crates, a look of mild wonder lighting up his face that reminded D'argo of their first cycle together on Moya. He had underestimated John then. Now he looked back and was amazed he had ever thought the Human weak. Bizarre, yes, always bizarre, but never weak.   
  
"You know," John quietly broke the silence, "Since Scorpy and the war, I've always wondered if I'd ever find Earth again, wondered if I dared to open another wormhole to go home and get away from this frelling galaxy."  
  
"I'd thought you'd given up searching," said D'argo surprised. John had barely mentioned wormhole research or his home planet for cycles.  
  
"No. Just had other things to worry about," the Human gave him a sad smile, weariness mixing with his natural good humor. "The Nebari took another planet in Known Space, despite two victories by the Front. I don't know which one."  
  
"I'm not surprised," the Luxan sighed. The United Front of Planets formed against the Nebari Takeover had been barely holding its own for the past four cycles. "Most of their governments had barely gotten the Nebari under control when the Peacekeepers pulled out to fight the Scarrans. Without the military support and the Uncharteds going to all hezmana, it's amazing the Front's lasted this long."  
  
"Thanks to the Resistance, which by the way, is still trying to pull itself back together. At this rate the Peacekeepers will be forced to split their forces soon if they don't want the Nebari to bite their supply lines in the ass. And the Scarrans are just having a grand ol' time razing planets for resources while the Anti Scarran-Whatever-They're-Calling-Themselves here are still arguing over who's got the biggest balls." John sighed crossing his arms as he leaned against a crate. "It's really getting nasty out there."  
  
"It was already nasty," D'argo told him wryly, depressed by the news. The web of war on two fronts trapped nothing but death. Chemical and biological weapons decimated the inferior populations that stood in the way of the major players, nothing more than resources and labor forces to be exploited, while those with the technology picked their own wars or tried to fight back in an alliance that was more concerned with not killing its own allies first. And the refugees flowed like blood, carted to dubious safety by a couple handfuls of rogue ships like Moya and Talyn.  
  
"Yeah. Nasty. And now there might be Earth." John didn't need to say more. Looking at each other, they both knew that there would be no mercy for the homeworld of the infamous John Crichton.   
  
"Earth," D'argo repeated, the weight of the word settling like a black blanket over them. "You know your Humans talk a lot," the practical warrior shoved it away. John laughed and the Luxan grinned at the sound. The dark mood broken, they headed out of the cargo bay. "Hopelessly primitive," D'argo continued teasing. "Frankly I don't know how you ever became the most feared creature in the territories."  
  
"Watch it, D. If you're not careful I'll launch my super-ultra-top-secret weapon and you'll never sleep again. Mwaaaaaaaah."   
  
D'argo rolled his eyes, "Not you too." The grin John gave him was pure mischief. "Chiana trained her to wake *me* up every morning. That child does not have a healthy sense of fear."  
  
"Sure she does," John laughed. "She knows that if Pip says she'll whup her butt she will. You, my friend, are nothin' but a big pussy cat. And Rhia knows it."  
  
"I am not a puppy cat," D'argo snorted.  
  
"Wrapped around her tiny finger," the Human disagreed. They rounded a corner heading for quarters. "How were they?"  
  
"I think Rygel made a list."  
  
"Forget I asked. No, scratch that and give me the Reader's Digest version. Don't want any surprises. Seth didn't start any more fungus farms, did he?"  
  
It was D'argo's turn to laugh, "I don't think so. He's taken to disappearing into the access conduits - don't worry Stipes keeps up, and he hasn't fallen in the Den or anything, though it's not for lack of trying."  
  
"D'argo, you leave the details out of the Reader's Digest version," John gave him a pained look.  
  
"No broken bones."   
  
"Oh, God," the Human moaned. D'argo grinned even wider, enjoying himself.  
  
"Let see. Seth ate one of Rygel's food stashes; Rhia decided to cook supper without telling anyone and melted several plates; Pilot kicked them out of the Den -"  
  
"What?" John interrupted with a hand flung across his friend's chest. "Pilot, Mr. Residual-I'm-That-That-Baby's-Father Pilot?"  
  
D'argo pushed the hand away, grinning again at the memory of Pilot's chemically induced amnesia. The event actually hadn't been that pleasant. Aeryn, in the last stage of pregnancy with Rhia, had had to fly Moya and manage what systems she could while Pilot unconsciously sent the DRD's after the rest of them to protect "his" child she carried. And that was before Aeryn went into labor. D'argo was still amazed Pilot had survived with all his limbs attached. "You'll have to ask him, I heard about it from Jool."  
  
"I don't think I want to know what would push Pilot to that extreme," John ran one hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip. And he had only just got back. D'argo had absolutely no sympathy.  
  
As they turned down John and Aeryn's tier, D'argo could hear Aeryn humming softly. It was one of John's songs, and Seth's favorite. They passed the kids' room on the right, turning into John and Aeryn's on the left where the ex-Peacekeeper sat in bed with Rhia and Seth curled up asleep against her. She smiled when she saw them but didn't stop humming. John had eyes only for her. Smiling himself, D'argo gently clapped the Human on the shoulder and left his friend to his family.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 2: Brave New World  
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It was a beautiful day: blue sky and not a cloud in sight. Hot as hell, even for August but from the air conditioned Oval Office, President Landers could enjoy it. He was just back from lunch with his wife and was waiting on his aide Lewis Sheinson who was running late with his afternoon schedule. Landers didn't mind. It was nice to have a private moment to himself to get his thoughts in order. And take an Excedren for the headache he knew he was going to have in an hour, he thought wryly. Nevertheless he was doing just that when Lewis rushed in, out of breath but not a hair out of place, with the blue folder in hand.  
  
"Excuse me for being late, sir. Traffic," he explained.  
  
"Breathe, Lewis," Landers ordered with a smile. Young and an idealist at heart, Lewis was nonetheless the best aide Landers had ever had in his twenty years in politics. He was practical and highly efficient, full of gossip from just about every government building on Capitol Hill which he was never reluctant to share with the President. When he had first started out as a junior aide, Lewis had taken to penciling in notes on schedules and memos he delivered to the office. At first Landers hadn't known what to make of the illegible handwriting but after a few conversations and quiet inquiries, he made sure that Lewis was by his side after the job shuffle at Christmas.  
  
"Yes, sir," Lewis smiled back shyly. He handed Landers the folder and settled into the left-hand chair across from him with his palm pilot. Taking a few deep breaths, he got down to business. "You're in for a long afternoon, I'm afraid," he began. "At 1:30 you have a briefing with Secretary of State Clermont and General Ferrand from the Pentagon." Landers nodded. That would be the latest embassy attack in Pakistan and probably the new counteroffer for the Arms Treaty.   
  
"At 3:00, Mike Optim from the CIA and Jacob Norris from the FBI with the terrorist investigation. It's bad news; Secretary Wheeler had a cow this morning after Norris called him. He asked to be included in the briefing so he'll be here, too." Landers felt the headache coming on already, just behind his eyes. It was a well known fact that Optim and Norris didn't like each other, which meant that a meeting with the two of them was serious. His Secretary of Homeland Defense having cows did not inspire much confidence either.   
  
"I rescheduled Senator Kyleck of the Budget Committee," the conservatives asking for another tax cut that the government's programs could definitely do without, "for next Thursday to give you more time. I also moved your meeting with Locher from IASA to tomorrow." And that would be the new IASA treaty with Russia, the EU, and Japan. About the aliens who at this moment were hardly more than an abstract idea to Landers.  
  
"That it?" he asked.  
  
"Tonight you have a black tie dinner with the Party to drum up support for the midterm elections."   
  
"I know. Any special reason you're bringing that up now?" Knowing Lewis, there was probably a good one.  
  
The young man nodded. "Rumor has it both Keats and Tyler will be there. Pressure from the Environmentalists about the Colorado issue. Just thought you might need the extra warning."  
  
"Thanks," Landers' sigh was heartfelt. Once upon a time he cared about the environment but right now it was barely a concern. At least he wouldn't be walking into an ambush. "Ask Richard to go over the numbers and give me something justifiable to say. I don't want Keats throwing dereliction in my face again." Lewis nodded not bothering to make a note. "Now, what do I need to know about the latest developments in Pakistan?"  
  
  
  
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Florida was officially nicknamed the Sunshine State, but in hurricane season, it often felt far from it. Francis had just missed Canaveral by hours mostly dissipating before hitting near Jacksonville and leaving them the relatively gentle gift of tempest storms. Storms matched by the frustrated tempers of the IASA scientists trying to unravel hopelessly incomplete information from the alien ship. In the Shepard Building, the Farscape team was working on the faster-than-light "hetch" drive, trying to figure out what exactly the energy source was for that kind of power since "serrin" didn't translate.  
  
"I feel like Ptolomy trying to piece together astrophysics in Japanese," Yora Maganova threw her pencil down in frustration. "They totally cheated us with the questions! Legitimately answering them but in useless terms so we end up knowing less than we did in the beginning!"  
  
"Have you heard the xenobiology section?" asked Conrad Murphy, one of the astronauts on the team. "It's even worse than ours. One word in twenty is English."  
  
"DK, you think we'll ever get this mess sorted out?" Jeff Leacore asked, gesturing at the long table covered in periodic tables, data charts, and sheets and sheets of scratch paper. Looking at the trail of complex equations in both physics and chemistry, DK shrugged.   
  
"It's a whole different way of thinking. Unless the aliens come back, we'll probably never understand it," he said. As much as they wanted to. To be honest, the novelty of the aliens' visit was long gone, replaced by frustration and more than a little resentment that once the trade agreement was concluded, the aliens had refused to return any of Earth's transmissions before finally leaving. That was another mystery: why had they hung around if they didn't want to talk? Looked like they would never find that out either.  
  
"Why don't we give this hetch drive another week, than get back to more productive work?" he asked in general. "If we can't find anything useful we might as well give it back to Danny." From the grateful smiles, DK knew his people were more than ready to consign this stuff to a museum, but first they'd give it one last shot.   
  
  
  
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Melanie Crichton Phillipson switched off the TV in disgust, not wanting to hear anymore about the glory of God or incredible scientific breakthroughs. "You'd think people would have more sense," she said crossing to the kitchen where her husband was making coffee.  
  
"About what? The aliens?" Ryan asked. He leaned against the counter across from her next to the coffee maker, his gray shirt speckled with Peter's rejected dinner. Their two boys were asleep now, despite four year old David's protests that he wasn't tired.  
  
"There's the Roswell contingent still proclaiming the aliens as the saviors of Humanity and another religious fanatic calling for burning them at the stake for witchcraft. Like he could get his hands on them. *If* they even exist."  
  
"They released the contact tapes and the radar data. I'd say that's pretty irrefutable proof right there," said Ryan.  
  
Melanie gave him a withering glare. "This is the US government were talking about. If you recall, they aren't exactly forthright when it comes to   
videotapes."  
  
"You still believe that conspiracy theory of the '04 bombing?"   
  
"There is supporting evidence, you know. And it's not that I believe all of it, I'm just not discounting it. But aliens, Ry?"  
  
"I thought you talked to your Dad and he said this was the real deal," Ryan steered clear of the old argument.  
  
Melanie rolled her eyes. "My dad. My dad is a 70 year old dreamer. His head's always been stuck up in the stars. Hell, he missed half my life because of them."  
  
"You don't believe in aliens because Jack does," Ryan snorted. "You have one warped conception of logic for a computer analyst, Mel."  
  
"I'm just saying that he wants to believe in them so he takes them at face value. I'm not discounting the possibility that this is all an elaborate hoax. They had an English speaker for Christ's sake. How do you explain that?"  
  
"I don't know. But why would anyone want to fake an alien encounter?" Ryan argued.  
  
"For kicks? Entertainment? There are a lot of weird people out there who would love to do it."  
  
"On this scale?" Ryan asked. "You're saying some random Star Trek nerd faked out both IASA and the US government?"  
  
"I don't know!" Melanie shrugged. "But it's the more likely explanation."  
  
"Mel, you just don't *want* to believe," Ryan shook his head. The coffee done, he poured two cups and handed one to his wife. She took it quietly, staring into its bitter depths before taking a sip.  
  
"Nothing good ever came of space," she remarked.  
  
"I don't believe you!" Ryan burst out. "You're an astronaut's daughter and you still hate him for it."  
  
"What's there to like? Strangers knew him better than I did," Melanie said, waving a hand for emphasis. "Then he went and infected John with his dreams of space and aliens. Where did that get him? Dead!"  
  
"I don't think that's fair. From what I've heard, your brother wasn't other people's puppet. He wouldn't have become an astronaut if he hadn't loved it."  
  
"Maybe so," she conceded, "but he still went into space and never came back. Being a 'hero' or a 'scientific martyr' or 'space pioneer' doesn't make him any less dead."  
  
Ryan sipped his coffee and didn't reply. He'd never met his late brother-in-law. Melanie had been dating Steven Whirel, her future first husband, when he had died. She had been close to John, he knew, despite the six years between them, and it had taken her a long time to get over his death. She didn't speak to Jack for almost three years and even now that they were talking, they weren't really talking.  
  
"So what are the scientists saying?" he finally broke the silence.  
  
"Same old, same old. The answers are incomplete, lots of alien terms and concepts, though they say they're making progress deciphering them."  
  
"More fuel for the unbelieving."  
  
"Just don't be disappointed when they don't come back." She took another sip of coffee. Ryan watched, amazed again at how rational thought flew out the window when space was mentioned.  
  
"Melanie, why don't you believe in the aliens?" he asked.  
  
She smiled. "You sound like you're asking me if I believe in God." Ryan smiled back but didn't say anything, his expression telling her that he wanted to know and understand. Melanie looked down into her coffee, the smile fading. "I can't," she finally said, not looking up. After a moment she continued. "They...they never found any wreckage. Of John's ship." She looked up and Ryan could see the pain in her eyes. It was hard to bury an empty box. Without a thought he set his mug down and gathered her into his arms, running a soothing hand up and down her back.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 3: I Don't Think We're in Oz Anymore, Toto  
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Chiana snaked an arm around the slug's throat and pinched his mouth closed, harder than necessary. She wasn't irritated enough to through him out an airlock, but she was getting close. Ever since they'd entered John's system he hadn't stopped bitching about the Humans. She swore if he mentioned dissection one more time... "Rygel, shut the frell up!"  
  
"Thank you!" Emmerit sighed in relief, rubbing her temples to no doubt ease the headache caused by listening to Rygel's non-stop doomsaying.   
  
Rygel was doing his best to bite Chiana's hand, but cycles of practice had perfected the grip. After a few microts of lip-twitching he finally gave up. However Chiana's laugh of triumph quickly turned into a shriek of horror when a warm spray hit her leg. Violently, she flung Rygel away from her, too disgusted to even take pleasure from the satisfying thwack he made against the wall of the center chamber. The little toad had pissed on her! A self satisfied chuckle floated up from the lump on the floor, fuelling the Nebari's anger. The frelling little piece of dren had pissed on her!  
  
With a scream she launched herself toward the dethroned dominar, intent on ripping him to pieces. She would have succeeded too if Emmerit hadn't gotten in her way and bodily moved her out the door.  
  
"Chiana! Stop!" Emmerit yelled, catching at her flailing arms. Chiana tried to kick, scratch, anything, but the older woman held her fast until she was safely in the corridor. "You'll hate yourself in the morning!"  
  
"No, I won't! He pissed on me!"  
  
"You're acting like a child!"  
  
"He pissed on me!!!" Did that count for nothing? She'd been doing Emmerit a favor by shutting him up. And when the frelling little fiskerbot *peed* on her, she was reprimanded like Essor! Right, so she was acting like Essor in a tantrum, Chiana could admit that, but Rygel still needed to be skinned slowly after an acid bath.  
  
"Chiana, just go clean up," Emmerit lowered her voice. "I'll go hide his thronesled." That surprised a bark of laughter from the Nebari, dispelling her anger somewhat as she imagined all twenty-six denches of Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth waddling around on his own two stumps of feet.  
  
"You better hurry," she replied twisting to look over Emmerit's shoulder into the center chamber. With the threat gone, Rygel had pulled himself to his feet and was starting to make his way to the table to climb back into his thronesled that still hovered in the air.  
  
"Go. You smell like...well, piss. I'll take care of his royal shortness," Emmerit gave her a gentle push down the corridor. Confident, that Rygel was in the appropriate hands, Chiana headed up the tier towards quarters with a wholesome smile on her face.  
  
She liked Emmerit. The woman had been a barkeep on her planet's space station for about fifty cycles and knew plenty of ways to take revenge without actually resorting to violence. In fact, the battle against the Peacekeepers for control of the space station had been the first time she had ever killed anyone. Emmerit and her pilot friend Edinnal had managed to get away in the flotsam of escaping or dead vessels and ended up on the same commerce planet as Moya. Aside from Aeryn almost getting killed, it had been a peaceful encounter and their passage to another planet, like Chiana's, had turned into a permanent stay.  
  
Chiana's smile slipped as she thought about it. It been about a cycle since Edinnal was killed. He'd made her laugh.  
  
Refusing to think morbid thoughts this close to another potential death-trap, Chiana entered her quarters, wondering if she had anything clean left to wear. The three weekens of time between starbursts to John's planet had been spent patching up Moya's reopened wounds. And that was after a hectic two and a half monens dealing with Zenetian pirates, a small arms carrier who swore he had nothing to do with the influx of Charrids in the region, and a spectacularly bad choice in commerce planets. It left little time for laundry.  
  
"Morning, Chiana," a sleepy voice said from her bed. Looking over, the Nebari was not surprised to see Medri lying there, eyes barely opened and looking sexy as always. Her souvenir from the two cycles she spent with the Nebari Resistance after the Takeover.   
  
Medri smiled as she sashayed over to the bed, eyes opening wider with every step. Then his nostrils twitched and the smile broke into a grin. "What happened to you?" he asked.  
  
"Rygel." Mood broken, Chiana looked over herself disgustedly then headed for the shelf on the back wall. She didn't need to explain further.  
  
"Dissection?"   
  
Chiana nodded sifting through the small pile of dirty clothes. "Emm's hiding his thronesled," she answered his next question. She heard him get out of bed behind her and knew without looking that his spots had dropped from muted yellow to dark gold. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slowly turned around. "I need to go check on Essor after I change," she teased.  
  
"Essor's fine wherever he is. You need to take a shower," Medri countered stepping closer.  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"Yes, you do."  
  
"You know if you kiss me you're going to need a shower too."  
  
"Will I?"  
  
"Yes, you will."  
  
They were barely apart, so close Chiana could feel his body heat, but still not touching. Medri only wore the light pants he slept in, his large, now gold spots decorating his upper body. His species also came in blue spots - a genetic fact that left the planet in a constant state of civil war - but Chiana much preferred the yellow. Or maybe it was just him, she thought as his spots dropped another shade and she caught the glint of both humor and hunger in his eye that made her heart flutter.  
  
"We better go take a shower," she said, her breath catching slightly.  
  
"Should we?" His steady voice was at odds with his all-telling colors.  
  
Chiana grinned and closed the gap. "Yes, we should."  
  
  
  
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John had never realized just how huge Jupiter was until Moya was flying by it. The planet was abso-frickin-normus! John had seen gas giants before, but none had ever seemed so large. And the weird thing was that he knew it. Every orange and white stripe and the red spot glaring from the southern hemisphere like a watchful eye. But at the same time, the familiarity itself was odd.  
  
However it was the constellations that made him start. The patterns of stars he was so used to barely recognizing, suddenly oriented into figures so instinctive it made his chest ache. They were just pricks of light, gazillions of years old from other suns, yet steeped in Earth's ancient myths and legends. They'd seen empire's rise and civilizations fall, granted wishes and fuelled the hopes and dreams of Humanity for the long of its existence. His own innocent dreams.  
  
It felt surreal, and he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop - Ancients, Peacekeepers, Scarrans, Farders, Nebari, or something else God-awful and new. It seemed too good to be true, and John distrusted that above all, yet all the evidence screamed it was real.  
  
Footsteps behind him caught his attention, and after a moment he relaxed, recognizing them as Aeryn's. She came up beside him, letting her shoulder touch his in silence. Her mere presence was reassuring, the stable center of his universe no matter which corner of it he might be in.  
  
"Your solar system," she said quietly. John looked at her. Her hair was in its usual tight braid, and her thoughts were hidden behind a neutral expression. But he could feel the tension through their contact. They'd only had one real conversation about Earth in the past couple monens, but now John wished he had made time for one more.  
  
"Earth's solar system," he said taking her hand and never looking away from her. When she finally met his eyes with her own, he added, "To final, irrevocable death do us part, Aeryn." He watched the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. The tension eased from her body at their marriage vow. As he held her eyes, John couldn't help but marvel that as much as she had changed and grown from the Peacekeeper she once had been, so much had stayed the same. She still needed to know that he would be there tomorrow.  
  
As if she knew what he was thinking, she squeezed his hand and said, "Now that we've dealt with my insecurities," John half-grinned at her self mockery, "are you all right? You've been up here since mealtime."  
  
He shrugged and looked back at the viewscreen. "Just some rattlers rearin' their ugly heads."  
  
"Second thoughts?"  
  
"Nah," John said, though he himself wasn't sure. He'd felt torn since he'd first seen Cassiopeia. Part of him was wildly excited about finding Earth, like returning from summer camp when he was a kid full of wild tales but ready to go home. He missed his family, his old life, and everything familiar. But there was deeper, darker part of him born on the other side of the wormhole that was scared shitless. "It's just...I've been gone so long and now I'm back," he finally said. "So much has happened...I'm not the same person I was when I was pulled aboard Moya."  
  
"None of us are," said Aeryn.   
  
"No." He looked down at their joined hands. "With everything ... everyone whose been through my head..." he trailed off trying to form a coherent thought. "I don't even know what to *say* to them."  
  
"You'll find the words," Aeryn said. "You always do. Even for your father."  
  
John looked up with a wry grin at the woman who knew him all too well. She held his eyes easily. Yeah, his father, he finally admitted in his mind, the only person whose opinion mattered. "You've never met my real Dad."  
  
Aeryn smiled at that and stepped in front of him to grab his other hand, blocking John's view of the screen. "The man your father raised is still part of you," she said, twining her fingers with his.  
  
It was John's turn to raised uncertain eyes to her reassuring gaze. "You sure about that?" he asked. In many ways John felt... unclean. There was so much blood on his hands and worst of all, most of it he didn't regret. Peacekeepers, Scarrans, countless others who'd tried to catch him to have their way with the knowledge in his brain - or simply kill him. It was survival fuelled by anger, not just for what they did to him, but for what they did to entire planets, what they did to their own people, what they had done to his friends and family. It wasn't something he was proud of, but there it was. How could he face his father as he was now?  
  
"Yes," Aeryn answered as if it were that simple. "You still willingly risk your life for total strangers because it's the right thing to do. That has never changed, John, and probably never will." She stared into his eyes a moment before continuing. "What has changed is that you've gotten better at it. You're not nearly as much of a half-wit as you were before. I guess that would make you a three-quarters-wit," she added after a pause.  
  
He laughed lightly. Trust Aeryn to cheer him up, compliment him, and insult him all at the same time. "When did you get to be so wise?" he asked leaning forward till their foreheads met.  
  
"About the time I fell in love with a certain drannit who insisted on saving my life."  
  
"Hmm. Anyone I know?" he teased.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," she teased back, smiling. "From a backward species? Never shuts up, smells like a moonkey, doesn't know when to frelling kiss me -" Aeryn's words were suddenly cut off by John's mouth occupying hers. He could take a hint. She smiled against his lips as he kissed her long and slowly.  
  
"Nope, don't know him," he said when they finally came up for air.  
  
"Don't you two ever do anything else?" a disgusted grunt came from the door as D'argo entered.  
  
Unembarrassed, John and Aeryn grinned at each other. "Oh, yeah!" John breathed, knowing Aeryn was thinking exactly the same thing he was. He leaned in for another kiss. Behind them, he could hear D'argo muttering something about knowing way to much about their sex life. Moya was, John thought absently as he lost himself in the sensations of the kiss, only so big after all.  
  
They were passing over the asteroid belt by the time, John and Aeryn finally settled against the strategy table to watch their progress, shoulders again comfortably touching. The rattlers had calmed somewhat, taking the edge off the fear. Then John saw Earth in the distance. It really hit him then that this could be it: no wormhole, no 'waking' from a dream or crash. Moya had brought them here by blood and sweat, starburst and hetch. Unless Harvey was playing games again - which he couldn't - that was Earth. Gaia, Terra Firma, Mostly Harmless, the 3rd Rock from the Sun.  
  
As they drew closer, the others drifted in. "See Dad? That's Earth!" said Rhia, as if she could read his thoughts. He half turned and watched her haul herself onto the strategy table for a better view. Seth tried too, but he was still too small, so instead he ducked under the table to John's side and tugged on his leather pants.  
  
"Up!" he commanded holding out his arms. John smiled and obediently picked up his son, settling him in the crook of his arm facing forward so he could see. His light weight resting against John's chest sent a wave of warmth through him. Yes, life out here had been frelling awful from time to time, he thought, but it had also been pretty wonderful too. He had a family here, he'd seen some pretty cool things, and he'd known some very amazing people.  
  
"Can we go there?" Seth asked, pointing to the blue orb.  
  
"No. Everyone's staying on Moya until we know it's safe," answered John.  
  
"But I want to go!" Rhia whined from Aeryn's other side. "We *never* get to go anywhere!"  
  
"Rhia, none of us are going down until it's safe so I don't want to hear another word about it," Aeryn admonished gently.  
  
"But -"  
  
"No."   
  
John grimaced. The kids really didn't get a chance to go rockside very often; it was too dangerous. A trip to a relatively calm commerce planet was like going to the circus, a special event that was the highlight of the cycle. He felt guilty that his own home planet was on the look-don't-touch list, but what choice did they have?  
  
"Why can't we go there?" asked Seth.  
  
"Because the Humans aren't used to aliens and might want to hurt us," John answered.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because we're different and they're sometimes afraid of things that are different."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Whoever invented the word deserved to be shot, John decided. "They just are."  
  
"You're not afraid of different things," the three-year-old said with all the confidence of his age. John exchanged a look with Aeryn, wondering what to say to that when Rhia beat him to it.  
  
"That's because he's not a Earth Human."   
  
"Oh." Seth, satisfied by this answer, lapsed back into silence. There was a certain logic to that, John supposed, but he didn't want to think about it.  
  
Time was frozen in space, the Earth neither growing larger nor smaller, just there. He'd waited so long, but so much had changed...well, the rattlers were speaking for themselves. All of a sudden it seemed, John could make out the craters on the moon then the satellites in orbit and the space station. The international space station that he had helped build - the solar panels on the main module to be exact. John remembered it like a dream from another life jolting him awake.  
  
"The Humans have noticed us," Pilot spoke up from the clamshell. "They are sending us a transmission, audio and visual."   
  
The center of the viewscreen changed from Earth to three men in suits and ties. "Starship Moya, do you copy?... This is Jeremy Seymore of the Planet Earth."  
  
And John couldn't help it; he laughed, dispelling his uncertainty and fear. It wasn't just the "starship" straight from Gene Roddenberry but -  
  
"What?" Seth tilted his head back.  
  
"Jeremy Seymore wearing a suit and tie!" Now that was something that would never have come out of his brain. He shook his head and passed his son to Aeryn who moved out of the field of vision.  
  
"You know him?" asked D'argo warily.   
  
John nodded and reigned his features back to half grin. "Okay Pilot, Odysseus has returned."  
  
  
  
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"Transmitting now."  
  
"Hey Jeremy, how much they pay you to wear the suit?" John asked casually. The look on Jeremy's face was priceless. John could practically see the blood drain from his face. His two companion however went red from mounting anger.   
  
"Who is this?!" demanded the one on the left.  
  
Time to drop the bomb. "John Crichton. IASA Astronaut Corps. I went MIA sometime back in '99."  
  
"I'm not here to play games!" Leftie scowled. "How did you get on this frequency?!"  
  
"I'm not playing games either," John replied. "I'm on Moya. Check your feedback."  
  
"John?" Jeremy whispered hoarsely.   
  
John, who'd seen his own share of ghosts back from the dead, suddenly felt sorry for him. "Yeah, it's me, Jeremy. I'm alive."  
  
"But you're dead."  
  
Leftie, watching the exchange, glanced sharply at Jeremy then back at John. "Mr...Crichton is it? If you are really on Moya, where are the aliens we saw before?"  
  
"They're here. D'argo or someone wanna wave hello?" John turned in time to see his Luxan friend roll his eyes. Nevertheless, the big lug moved beside him into the field of vision.  
  
"Stupid Humans," he grumbled.  
  
"That do for proof?" John asked. Leftie and Rightie exchanged a look. Jeremy was still in denial.  
  
"We would like some time to look into the matter. We'll contact Moya again in half an hour," Leftie finally said.  
  
Made sense. Give them a chance to figure out what to think. "Half an arn, then." The screen blinked out, back to the blue and white marble floating in space. Everything looked so simple from up here, John thought. Nice and uncomplicated - just a planet.  
  
For the next few minutes, John absently answered Rhia's questions about Earth's reaction. He didn't notice when she finally scampered off with the boys to more exciting things. His mind's eye had captured his attention with memories of Jeremy, IASA, and the handful of insane recreations he'd been through since he left. The Ancients had come the closest of all of them, but it hadn't been perfect. With all the others there had been the same song and dance around wormholes. But this was it, or as close as he was going to get to believing it. And it scared him like nothing had before because he wanted it to be true.  
  
It seemed like only microts had passed when Pilot informed them that the Humans were back on the line. John took a moment to center himself. Sometime during the interim Aeryn's hand had tangled with his; she gave him a tight but nonetheless reassuring smile.  
  
"We're just talking," she reminded him.  
  
"Got it."  
  
A moment later Jeremy was back with Leftie and Rightie. He'd recovered some of his color, but still looked a little worse for wear. "Mr. Crichton," Leftie took control of the conversation. "We have confirmed your signal coming from Moya and the Lux-an as the same one we saw before. You will have to forgive us if we remain skeptical as to your identity."  
  
"Fine. I probably wouldn't believe it was me either. But just for the record, I'm not a mind-reader or brain-sucker or whatever else you can think of. If I was I wouldn't waste my time with letting you doubt me. So can we just pretend to believe in each other until we have further evidence?"  
  
Leftie blinked but quickly recovered from John's bald speech. He found himself beginning to like the guy. "Very well. We will accept that you are John Crichton for the time being and you will accept...?"  
  
"That you're a Human on Earth and not a figment of my imagination." That got a reaction. Jeremy started to sputter, but Leftie waved him to silence. John took the opportunity to continue. "Let's go for take two. What style do you want? Kirk or Picard?" Jeremy actually smiled just as John hoped, even the corners of two government types' lips twitched.   
  
"Why don't we try freestyle?" Leftie replied with a hint of a smile. John definitely liked the man.  
  
"All right. I am John Crichton on the leviathan Moya. I was formerly an IASA astronaut and presumed dead. I disappeared during the Farscape experiment in 1999 and ended up in another galaxy. Now I'm back."  
  
"Welcome home, Commander," Leftie intoned formally. "I am Ambassador Thomas Reginard of the United States State Department. On behalf of Earth I'd like to extend a warm welcome to Ka Dargo and the crew of the spaceship Moya. I'd like to present Ambassador Michel Soutain of the European Union, and of course you already know Jeremy Seymore of the IASA First Contact Commission."   
  
"It's a pleasure. Seeing Jeremy in a suit was definitely worth the trip." John grinned at his old friend's scowl. For the Jeremy he knew, non-ratty jeans and a t-shirt was considered "dressed up."  
  
Lefite, now Regie in John's head because it rhymed, smiled tolerantly as any ambassador would. "We are glad to have you home, Commander. If you don't mind my asking, what are your intentions now that you've returned?"  
  
You had to go straight for the toughie didn't you, thought John wryly. *He* didn't know what he wanted right now. The emotional tug of war wiggled it's way back to the forefront of his thoughts asking, What *did* he want? For a long time just "Earth" had been the answer, but now that he was here... Instinctively he looked at Aeryn. Hope, fear, and expectancy mingled freely over the beautiful curves of her face. Even silent, John thought her amazing. And if he could, he wanted his father to meet her.  
  
"I'd like to land if that -"  
  
"You want to what?!" Rygel yelled.  
  
"Sparky, shut up -"  
  
"No, he's absolutely right," D'argo jumped in. "You want to go down there now?"  
  
"I thought we agreed to wait." Aeryn's eyes, warm a moment before, now crystallized.  
  
He couldn't believe this. What the frell did they think he wanted to do? Sit on his ass and just wave hello? "Why are you all so surprised? -"  
  
"Excuse me, Commander," Regie spoke up.  
  
"Pilot, switch us off," barked D'argo.  
  
"Pilot, wait -"  
  
"Done." Pilot looked suspiciously smug to John. The rather frosty glares the other eight launched in his direction didn't dispel the conspiracy theory feeling.  
  
"What?" he demanded. "This is my planet, my home. You expect me to just stay up here?"  
  
"We agreed to wait," Aeryn repeated. "It's far too dangerous to be rushing down there."  
  
"We've gone to more dangerous planets before."  
  
"But never with every tracking instrument they have on us and an army waiting to greet us," put in Filalla. "Trust me, pre-alien species are not nice."  
  
"Thank you very much for your informed opinion," John snapped. "That didn't seem to stop you from trading with Earth before."  
  
"I was against it! You yourself proved the Humans will stop at nothing, not even murder, to make some scientific breakthrough!" declared Rygel.   
  
"That was completely different, John! We had no choice." Emmerit angrily moved away from the back wall. "We were out of food with a shipload of refugees."  
  
"They won't harm us!" John protested. "If we sign an agreement they won't harm us."  
  
"They put a bomb in the food crate!" Chiana shouted. "I'd say that's hurting us. Or trying to."  
  
"I'm not losing you again, John." This from Aeryn, stopping John's next argument in his throat.   
  
"This is really Earth, Aeryn. I want you to meet my family," he finally said.  
  
"Look, you said that they would honor an agreement?" said Jool, ever the advocate for civilized behavior. Without quitting his wife's gaze, John nodded. "Good. Then as long as we don't *rush* into things," she said pointedly, "and make sure everything's safe, you can go."  
  
"There's more than one way of getting hurt," said Aeryn.  
  
"I'm willing to take that risk."  
  
"Then I'm going with you." There was no arguing with that tone and John had long ago learned not to bother trying. So be it. It was definitely an incentive to make sure they would be as safe as possible. And his cunning woman knew it.  
  
"Fine." He turned to the others, ending on Pilot's image. "Can I talk to Regie now?"  
  
"No military, no cells, no doctors, no tests, no army -"  
  
"No visit home. Yes, Dad. And I'll have the car back by ten." D'argo glared at him without the usual I only-tolerate-you-because-you're-my-friend behind it. He was deadly serious. John wouldn't get as far as the maintenance bay if the Humans didn't meet the warrior's security measures. John looked away first.  
  
The issue settled, Pilot re-established the link with Canaveral, and the three ambassadors for Humanity reappeared.  
  
"Sorry about that," John apologized but offered no explanation.  
  
Regie gave him another diplomatic smile. "It's quite all right. Now, you would like to land?"  
  
"Yeah, if it can be arranged. Who's in charge down there, IASA?" It would make everything so much simpler.  
  
"Yes. IASA and the International First Contact Commission are in charge of all alien encounters."  
  
"Good." Now what would be the best way to go about this? "Good. Up here we're a little worried about our safety on Earth because of that bomb and some ... other things -"  
  
"Commander Crichton, that bomb was placed by an independent group and was not sanctioned by IASA or the United States government. We will do everything in our power to keep you and your alien companions safe. Security measures will be put into place."  
  
"Yeah, that's another thing." We're afraid of the government too, thank you very much. Regie meant well, he supposed. "I don't want the US government involved with the meeting any more than strictly necessary. I want the President to sign a reaffirmation of my civil and Human rights and extend at least the Human ones to my friends. I also want him to sign an agreement of no military intervention. This will go down under IASA control only."  
  
"You forgot the doctors and the locks," D'argo reminded him.  
  
"I'm getting there. There will be no medical tests on anyone, and at no time will we be put into a locked room or cell. I want all that on paper, too."  
  
"Commander Crichton, be reasonable."  
  
"John," Jeremy spoke for the second time. "We're not gonna hurt you. And IASA would never harm the aliens. You *know* that."   
  
But John didn't. Maybe once he had, but cycles of fighting for survival had striped that kind of trust away. Home planet or not, now he had none to spare. Jeremy couldn't possibly understand. John cringed inwardly, feeling more than ever the uncleanliness of his existence. Score one for the Uncharted Territories, he thought bitterly.  
  
"Just ask, okay?" he said wearily. "These are our lives here. I'm not negotiating."  
  
"And if we say no, you'll stay on your ship?" Regie asked. "You're the one who wants to land. You don't seem to be in a position to give non-negotiable terms."  
  
It didn't take long for John to come up with an answer to that. "I've been living in an interstellar ... society, I guess you could call it, for the past ten cycles. There's a war going on out there, and Earth is completely vulnerable. There's no guarantee they won't come out here. And trust me when I say none of the potential victors are very nice."  
  
Regie, Rightie, and Jeremy exchanged dubious glances.   
  
"Besides," John added feeling guilty, "I heard all about that question list and I'd be happy to fill in the blanks once I'm on the ground." A little extra incentive for the scientists at IASA.  
  
Regie finally nodded. "We will speak to the necessary people on your behalf Commander."  
  
"Thanks. And Jeremy, I want to talk to DK or my Dad if I can." If he wasn't going down, he wanted to see them. And if he was, it was better to be prepared for the face-to-face meeting. Coward, he chastised himself. You just want to hide in the distance between because maybe then it won't hurt so badly.   
  
"I'll see what I can do," his old friend said.  
  
With that, they signed off. John turned to face his friends. "Well?"  
  
"Don't expect me to go down to the planet with you. I won't - no matter how much you beg," said Rygel in typical Rygel fashion before leaving command.  
  
Chiana asked, "How long do you think it will take?" to which John shrugged.  
  
"They're politicians but I don't think they'll be too long. National Security is at stake after all."  
  
Unsatisfied and nervous, the others drifted out of command until only John and Aeryn were left. Aeryn broke the silence first, "I don't like it."  
  
"You always say that."  
  
"Most of the time I'm right."  
  
"I can't turn my back on them, Aeryn. My family's down there."  
  
"I know. But I still don't like it."  
  
  
  
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Chapter 4: Drawing the Bow  
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"I don't want to hear it!" DK shouted in Jeremy's face before turning and striding down the hall on jelly legs. "This is somebody's idea of a joke!" He felt sick, wanting to throw up or pass out to ease the pain that would not go away. He could hear the world crashing around his ears like an ocean wave. Nothing was right anymore. All of a sudden, something ... everything was falling.  
  
"DK, please -" Jeremy started but DK cut him off.   
  
"John is dead!" Gone, not alive, vaporized. "I don't know what kind of alien showed up on that screen but it wasn't John!" Yesterday had been his day off, and he'd spent the beautiful early October day fishing so he hadn't seen the second contact. He was glad he hadn't, not if there was some ...creature posing as his very dead friend. "John is dead!" he repeated because he knew it was true. He'd been there.  
  
"And you're the person to confirm it!" Jeremy grabbed his shoulder but DK shook him off. He didn't want contact. "You were his best friend since God knows when. You knew him better than anyone and he *wants* to talk to you. We tried to contact him three more times yesterday, but he said in no uncertain terms that unless it was you or his father, he ain't talking. And if you don't do it, I'm calling the colonel."  
  
DK spun around so fast he nearly knocked Jeremy over. "You say away from him!" he yelled. "He was devastated when John died and I won't let some alien toy with his emotions!"  
  
"Then you'll do it?"  
  
Would he? Could he? *Could* he do it? DK closed his eyes in the face of the question and took a deep breath. It had taken five long years for him to get over the guilt. After the investigation, he hadn't had the strength to go back to the Farscape project and it had languished under various others, shifted around till Yora had grabbed it and convinced DK it was just an accident. He didn't know if he could face a mockery of his best friend, but better him than Jack. Jack had...Jack wouldn't be able to bear it.  
  
"DK -"  
  
"Fine, damn you, I'll do it." He'd said it. He'd do it. Though he didn't know how.  
  
  
  
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"So Lewis, what's the probability that we can keep this low profile?" Landers asked. On his desk were the signed and stamped civil and Human rights agreements for the aliens and John Crichton along with the statement that IASA was indeed in charge and that no military unit of any kind would interfere with the landing in any way, shape, or form. Paranoid returned hero.  
  
"None, sir," his aide replied. "Even if we had the power to suspend IASA's open public relations policy, too many scientists, including independent research stations here and abroad, know and would easily spread the word on the Internet. There is no way we could cut off all their computers and cell phones, and if we could it would create a major scandal that would blow the whole thing out in the open anyway. Besides it's already too late for that. As soon as the ship entered orbit, half the world knew about it."  
  
"Welcome to the Information Age," Landers muttered. It had been a hopeful question. He still preferred ink and paper most of the time, though e-mail was just as essential and the nifty locator message thingy on his cell phone came in handy.   
  
Besides, it would probably be political suicide for the US to try and direct the meeting more than was her right as an international partner. Landers sighed and resigned himself to the media frenzy that was, according to Lewis, already outside his door.  
  
"You and Richard get me a statement. Something cozy and diplomatic but not too cheesy or the people won't buy it. The media's going to be giving this enough saccharine as it is."  
  
"I'll get right on it." Landers handed him the signed documents and watched as his aide left the office, already making notes on his Palm Pilot. Yes, he thought back over Lewis' assessment, welcome to the Information Age.  
  
  
  
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DK was more nervous than he cared to admit. He glanced at the piece of paper in his hands one more time. The list of questions stared back at him, questions of their shared childhood. The edges of the paper were already crinkled and curled from his anxious fingers. He wanted to back out and run away, but like a nightmare, he couldn't. They would call the colonel and DK knew he'd never be able to look John's father in the eye again.  
  
Jeremy appeared around the corner and beckoned him to one of the back rooms of the control center where the support teams normally plugged into the mission. It was almost empty now and the monitor set up in the corner at least gave DK the illusion of privacy.  
  
As he settled into the waiting seat, Jeremy sent the transmission to the alien ship. "Moya, come in. This is Jeremy Seymore with DK Moore. Do you copy?" There was only static; they were communicating by radio waves and not a digital signal. Jeremy repeated the message, and this time one of the aliens answered.  
  
"I'm afraid we don't understand," Jeremy told it. That was another thing, since the appearance of 'John', the translator had disappeared. DK wished they were still dealing with her instead.  
  
A moment later, another voice echoed over the line. "DK?"   
  
He felt his heart stop. Knowing it was supposed to be John and hearing his voice for the first time since the Farscape I were two far different things. "Yeah." He clenched the piece of paper in his hands. It was John's voice, there was no mistaking it, and it was tearing him apart because John was dead. He'd been there.  
  
"DK? Give me two microts," he said. *John* said.  
  
By the clock on the wall, it was actually five minutes before the monitor flickered to life, though it felt like hours to DK. But finally he was there. *John* was there, on the screen. His head and shoulders anyway. He wore a black shirt and didn't look nervous, but then John rarely had no matter what his stomach was doing.  
  
"Hey." Dk's throat was so dry it was more a croak than a word.  
  
"Hey," John practically whispered. His face was older, a few more wrinkles and gray hairs than before. But the eyes that watched him were the same, filled with both hope and fear. DK understood for the first time the saying 'the eyes are the window to the soul'. And when the thumb came up to brush his bottom lip, DK knew.  
  
"John." He tried to smile and think of something to say. "You're supposed to be dead," was what finally came out.   
  
"Everyone keeps saying that."  
  
"Yeah." But what were they supposed to say? he thought angrily, not sure why he was angry. Great gag? Glad we mourned you for nothing? It wasn't something to joke about. But John wasn't smiling. They stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say. Finally John looked away.  
  
"I'm sorry. Sorry for everything." For dying. It hung in the silence between them. According to the investigation report, the solar flares combined with the slingshot maneuver and possible pilot error were what killed him. Except he wasn't dead. He was sitting on the screen before him. Whose fault did that make it? Yora blamed fate - it was a terrible accident and there was nothing they could have done from the ground.  
  
"What happened?" he asked. John looked up, something new in his eyes that DK couldn't read.  
  
"A spatial anomaly triggered by the flares transported me to another galaxy."  
  
"Do you know what it was?"  
  
"Does it matter?"   
  
DK blinked. Did it matter? No, he guessed it didn't. In chemistry it was called a state function: when only the end result and not the path it took mattered. John had ended up in another galaxy. That was what mattered. Another galaxy - DK was having a hard time wrapping his mind around that too. "Not really."   
  
There was another brief silence. John opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Finally he asked, "Will you come when I land?"  
  
"Yes." The answer was free before he thought about it. "I've missed you."  
  
John let out a sound that could only be relief. "I've missed you too." And for some reason everything was okay. They could talk again - about the frustrating question list, about the colonel, about the verifying questions John answered tolerantly - because it was another state function that John was alive and finally home.  
  
  
  
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"And we're rolling in five...four...three...two..." David raised one finger then pointed it at her. Shannon relaxed for the camera and began her rehearsed speech.  
  
"On October 4th the alien spaceship Moya returned to Earth, six months after the initial contact in April. But this time, the aliens didn't come to trade. Instead they were bringing someone home - Commander John Robert Crichton Jr. of the IASA Astronaut Corps, the first Human ever lost in space. Crichton worked with childhood friend DK Moore developing the Farscape Project which still exists today. He was believed to be killed in the first experimental flight of the Farscape I, attempting the Slingshot Maneuver to prove the Theory of Gravitational Acceleration. The theory was later proved in 2005 by the unmanned Farscape II.  
  
"After extensive interviews this week, IASA officials say they are 90 % certain that it is indeed John Crichton on Moya and not an alien recreation. Commander Crichton has asked for and been granted permission to land at the Kennedy Space Center. While a date has not yet been set, officials are already planning for the event. Assured the threat from above is minimal, the main concern now is safety on the ground. In a statement earlier today, President Landers announced that he recognizes Commander Crichton as an American citizen and returned hero. His alien companions will be offered diplomatic status. The meeting will be held according to IASA protocol and military involvement will be limited to the National Guard securing the perimeter around the Kennedy Space Center.  
  
"After the bomb found in the food crates during the alien Trade last April, IASA is taking every precaution. The international organization has already received letters of protest from anti-alien groups, including the Independence Day League and the Southern Baptist Coalition. Spokesman Peter Fielly says that they are taking the letters seriously. More on this story as it unfolds."  
  
  
  
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Chapter 5: Leap of Faith  
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"Long sleeves or short?" asked John holding a shirt in each hand.  
  
Aeryn looked up from the bed where she sat fastening her boots. She was already dressed in her usual black leather pants, dark green long sleeved shirt, and black vest with her hair neatly pulled back in a braid. Around her neck hung a silver star on a thin chain. A matching star rested on John's bare chest as he waited anxiously for an answer.  
  
"Short. And wear your vest." Aeryn moved to her other boot.  
  
"Are you sure?" John looked critically between each garment.  
  
Aeryn sighed and stood up. He was as fussy as a ... well, him. "Just put the shirt on," she ordered, snatching the long sleeved one out of his hand. She went over to the shelf to grab his vest. It was a little shabby around the edges but suitable enough for high ranked officials. Besides, it was sexy. "You really shouldn't be so worried," she said holding the vest out for his arms.  
  
"I know. I can't help it. It's like seeing you again after...after everything."  
  
Aeryn's hands smoothed across his shoulders once then fell away. She didn't have to ask, she knew: after *him* and everything that had happened afterwards.  
  
"Aeryn," John, sensing the memories he'd called up, turned to face her. "I didn't mean -"  
  
"I know," she cut him off. "I know what you meant." No need to cut open healed wounds this close to Earth. Neither of them needed that right now, and as far as she was concerned, it wasn't relevant anyway. That decided, Aeryn reached out and pulled the star out from under his collar, her hand lingering just below. His wedding necklace, the compromise they'd finally settled on. The gesture spoke louder than words to the man whose body and soul were in tune with hers. "Think you can do this without falling apart?" she asked.  
  
John tilted his head slightly and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'll make it."  
  
"Whatever happens..." She took a half step forward and leaned in so their foreheads were touching.   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Ready?" they said simultaneously after a moment. Smiling at each other, they moved apart and headed for the hangar.  
  
  
  
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Medri shook his head at the mess in the maintenance bay when he walked in. Granted, most of the time it wasn't the tidiest of places, but now it looked like an explosion had rocked the room. Open crates, small arms, and grenades mixed with the usual mechanical parts and tools scattered about. In the middle of it all were the rest of Moya's denizens. The four going down to the planet armed themselves with the small, flat explosives they'd robbed from the gun runner, tucking them into waistbands and inner pockets so they wouldn't be noticeable. The authorities on Earth might have promised not to hurt them, but no one, not even John, was willing to go down there without backup.  
  
At one end of the work bench, John and Filalla were talking about Human customs and at the other, Jool was helping Chiana adjust her coat over the hidden weapons. In the corner by the hangar doors D'argo, Aeryn, and Emmerit were having a private conversation too low for him to hear. Knowing them, they were probably discussing possible escape routes for the four landing. John and Aeryn were of course going, Filalla because he was the best diplomat after Rygel who had made it very clear what his feelings were on the matter, and Chiana who had insisted. She could never resist a new planet, Medri smiled. He headed toward her and Jool who were bickering as usual.   
  
"If you don't stop twisting, it will fall out again."  
  
"It wouldn't fall out if you had put two denches higher!"  
  
"Have you seen the clothes you're wearing?"  
  
"I am not the one who wears -"  
  
"You don't know dren about -"  
  
"I don't know about -?" The girls voices overlapped louder and louder until their words were lost in an indistinguishable shouting match that drew everyone's attention. After a microt, Filalla threw one of the grenades at them - with the safety still on of course. The shouting immediately shifted directions.  
  
"Oww!" Jool rubbed furiously at the spot where the grenade had hit her. "That's going to bruise, you trejamb!"  
  
"If you'd shut your frelling mouth, I wouldn't have thrown it! So shut up!"  
  
"Jool, calm down," Medri told her, taking a seat near Chiana.   
  
"But he -"  
  
"Jool, get over it already." John unstrapped Winona from his leg and carefully set her down. "It's not like you've never been hit worse before."  
  
"It's the principle," she grumbled, shooting an angry glare at Fil. Chiana laughed, enjoying Jool's discomfort.  
  
"Are you ready to go?" Aeryn came up behind them with D'argo and Emm. She too had taken off her pulse gun, but nonetheless looked as dangerous as ever in her head-to-foot black and serious expression. Her words, brought the three floorfleas out of the walls or wherever it was they'd disappeared to - lately they seemed to pop out of thin air. Rhia and Seth noisily asked to go down to the planet again, but John and Aeryn were having none of it.   
  
Essor immediately ran to Chiana, tugging on her coat to be picked up. They were an odd match, black and white with a little pink thrown in. And with him, they were a veritable paints shop.   
  
"What are you smiling at?" Chiana asked with Essor in her arms. The little boy rested his head on her shoulder.  
  
"Just thinking what a colorful family we are," Medri answered. Tilting her head she glanced at Essor and then back at Medri, an almost distant smile on her lips.   
  
"Pip?" John and Aeryn had finished reassuring their two and stood with Filalla by the open hangar door. "You ready?"   
  
"I'm gonna go now," she kissed Essor's forehead. "We'll be back for supper, all right?" Essor nodded and let her pass him to Medri. With a last smile for them, Chiana followed the others to the transport pod. Pilot closed the doors.  
  
Essor tugged on Medri's shirt until he had his attention, then looked at the hangar door with a frown. Medri hugged him closer. "She'll be back by supper. Just like she said." They heard the engines powering up and the outer doors open. Around them, the others left for command, but Essor pulled on his shirt again when Medri went to follow. Understanding, Medri gestured vaguely at the work bench. "You want to help me straighten all this up?" He got a nodded affirmative in response, but when he tried to put Essor down, the kid refused to detach. "So," he settled the boy on his hip. "You be the right arm, I'll be the left."  
  
  
  
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Chapter 6: Homecoming  
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Ryan watched the TV somewhat guiltily with the volume turned low even though the house was otherwise empty. Melanie had taken the boys to the park because it was a beautiful day, she said. But he'd understood and let her go without a word.   
  
So here he was watching history alone. On the screen, the news voiceover babbled on about the two mile security perimeter around the Kennedy Space Center and the protesters and pro-alieners with their painted faces and banners to accompanying shots. As the minutes ticked away, the focus changed to the gaggle of dignitaries headed by the IASA First Contact Commission lining the red carpet on the runway. Other IASA personal waited anxiously on the wings, well back so as not to overwhelm their guests.   
  
Ryan started when the camera suddenly panned onto Jack and Lisa waiting beside diplomats from all over the world. He had known they would be there, Melanie had been invited too, but seeing them on TV was still strange.  
  
Unsettled, he glance at the top right corner of the screen where a small radar screen had been looped in from the Control Center. Even as he watched it, a smaller dot detached itself from the larger one labeled "MOYA".  
  
The stir at Canaveral grew like a wave through the crowds on the perimeter. Signs reading "TAKE US WITH YOU" waved wildly opposed by others denouncing the devil incarnate. The dignitaries in contrast remained calm as the beige craft - the same type as before - landed at a T with the red carpet. After about a minute, stairs unfolded from its side and four figures descended. When the shot zoomed in, Ryan recognized one from Jack's photo album.  
  
Nevertheless he was still surprised. His brother-in-law was not what he expected from the pictures and family stories. John Crichton was dressed all in black leather with a serious expression on his face that showed no hint of the easy going nature he supposedly had. Ryan was suddenly glad Melanie had gone to the park.  
  
Turning his attention to the other three figures, Ryan was again surprised because there was another Human! A woman, wearing the same style black and neutral expression as John. Together they looked like two soldiers in uniform. The other two aliens were clearly alien, he saw with relief. Both were grayish white but that's where the similarities ended. One was the same three-legged creature from the first landing wearing a dark blue outfit with silver lining. The other, dressed in silver-gray a shade darker than her skin, was two-legged and walked with a strange tilted gait.  
  
There was no sound of the event, only the commentator's who's-who narration as the two groups met. IASA Director Phil Oursler offered his hand. John stared at it for a split second before taking it, a smile suddenly transforming his face. There was a brief exchange, then the camera pulled back showing Jack and Lisa smiling broadly, unable to keep their emotions in. "John Crichton's father and sister have been waiting for this moment since they received confirmation that their lost astronaut had come home," said the commentator. The two groups stared at each other until John crossed the last line to his family.  
  
Ryan looked away from the screen, embarrassed that such a private moment was bared open for the world to see. He thought they should've waited, but IASA and the press wanted all the melodrama they could squeeze from their returned hero. From what Lisa had told him, IASA was being very careful with the media, not exactly shutting them out but not letting them run the program either.  
  
When the welcoming committee began walking toward the buildings, the image shifted to the conference hall where the official welcome would take place. "Well, Jim, as you can see," said the reporter live from Canaveral, "the scientists and astronauts here are very excited to meet John Crichton and his alien companions. Many of them knew Crichton before his fateful Farscape I mission and are anxious to find out what happened to him. In addition, IASA has invited sixty representatives from nations around the world, the UN, and the EU." Flags from every country with the representatives who were not in the welcoming committee were visible over the reporter's head in the background. "The global community spirit is very much alive for our galactic visitors."  
  
The woman didn't have time to say more because at that moment, the galactic visitors came in with their escort. Triumphant music Ryan didn't recognize played in the otherwise silent hall. All eyes were glued to John and the aliens. As they walked down the center aisle, a murmur grew into clapping and all out cheering by the time they had mounted to the stage for all the world to see. Oursler stepped behind the podium, adjusting the mike while he waited for the applause to die down.  
  
"My friends," he began over the dying noise. "Six months ago the age old question of whether we were alone in the universe was answered by the arrival of the Leviathan Moya, a ship full of intergalactic voyagers who wanted to trade. We thought then that Humanity would never be the same. Today I am here to tell you that once more history is in the making. In 1999, the manned space program lost its first astronaut, John Crichton, in our first step in manned interstellar travel. John Crichton was indeed lost, but only to another galaxy. Today, I have the great pleasure to say, Commander Crichton, welcome home." He stepped back amid more wild applause and cheers to shake John's hand again. The returned astronaut offered him a small smile before Oursler turned back to the podium.  
  
"On their first visit, our alien guests were wary of us, a new planet unused to travelers from beyond our solar system. Today we have the great honor of receiving the Sebacean Erin Sun, the Trojallal Filalla la Iola la Salla, and the Nebari Chiana as our first ambassadors of the universe." He half turned to their guests. "On behalf of our planet, I welcome you to Earth." Thunderous applause again rocked the room as Oursler shook the aliens' hands as well. Ryan thought he saw a spark of amusement in their faces but from their otherwise bland expressions he wasn't quite sure. The Sebacean woman exchanged a glance with John who shrugged lightly in reply.  
  
As the noise died down, John stepped up to the podium. "Thank you, Director, for your hospitality. It's good to be back." His brief words were met with more cheerful noise.  
  
The ceremony finished, the camera zoomed out to show the whole room. On stage, John and his aliens were doing the meet-and-greet with the diplomats. The reporter came back on with the schedule for the rest of the afternoon before the station switched back to its panel guests to tear the incident apart. Ryan switched it off, put on his shoes and headed for the park. It was after all a beautiful day out.  
  
  
  
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Shifty. That's what Reginard thought of Crichton: he was shifty and paranoid and damned good at hiding it. If he hadn't talked with the guy every day of the past week he probably wouldn't have noticed the way Crichton's eyes - and those of his companions for that matter - checked out every person, door, window, and security camera while he chatted amicably with the IASA Director about the Super Bowl. The four constantly exchanged innocent looks Reginard was now sure held the weight of conversation. In the medical lab for the translator microbe test and DNA sample, he'd noticed Erin Sun waiting conveniently by the door for them to finish. Crichton kept glancing at her throughout, reminding Reginard of the chopped arms comment and the ensuing hour long interruption when he'd asked for the sample.  
  
Getting Crichton to agree on an agenda had been like pulling teeth. Every single point was interrupted by one or another of his shipmates (Reginard had gotten to know Jeremy Seymore in the time they had spent waiting in front of the blank screen) and came back riddled with conditions or flat refusals. Crichton hadn't budged much once he came back on the line, and Reginard wondered just who was in charge up there, if anyone. The DNA request had set off an all-out shouting match quickly cut off from Earth's view.  
  
"Simply incredible this," Deputy Director Dean Scott came up to him. There were still five minutes before Crichton gave his speech to the diplomats in a meeting closed to the media. "I've dreamed of meeting aliens, but this is simply incredible. I wonder what we look like to them?"  
  
"Probably like excited children." Reginard looked over at the group speaking to Secretary Clermont. The gray woman, Chiana he reminded himself, looked fascinated by the conversation, Fil-what's-it smiled politely, and Erin, her features softer than before, was still impossible to read. There was irony in that somewhere.  
  
"I certainly hope Earth's finest make a better impression than that," Scott laughed. "There's so much we can learn from them. Just think of the possibilities! I can't wait till we get a chance to pick Crichton's brain!"  
  
Reginard smiled politely. A week ago he would have said the same thing, but Crichton had vetoed a Q-n-A session beyond completing the Trade List with a 'maybe later.' "I think that'll have to wait for his next visit."  
  
"What next visit? The man's home." Scott stared at the black clad astronaut hungrily. "He must have had an incredible life out there. That's probably what he's going to talk to us about today, don't you think?"  
  
"Probably," he agreed. Reginard was saved from further conversation with the appointee by the general shuffle to seats. As a member of the First Contact Team he had one on stage. "Excuse me. I believe were about to start." He made his way up the steps and to his assigned chair next to Crichton whose eyes flickered in his direction before roaming back across the hall. "Commander," he nodded in greeting.  
  
"Hey, Regie." Crichton shifted his attention back to the State Department man with a polite nod. Reginard had long since given up trying to get him to stop calling him by that awful nickname. But he had to ask himself, how hard was it to remember 'Reginard'?  
  
"I'd like to thank you for agreeing to give this presentation," he said instead.  
  
"Maybe you should hear it first before you thank me."   
  
Oursler began his short introduction then, leaving no time for a reply. But as Crichton rose, his jet black clothes suddenly jumped out at Reginard. He had a feeling Scott was going to be disappointed.  
  
  
  
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His son was alive. Jack had been repeating it like a mantra ever since DK had told him the news Monday night. He still hadn't believed it till he'd seen John on the runway, really alive and home at long last. It had been like that summer John had come home from college with his hair in a ponytail - different but exactly the same. Jack didn't kid himself, he knew there'd be some readjustment, but they could deal with that later. For now, Jack intended to make the most of the hour they had before the final meeting with the press since there was no telling where John would be whisked off to once the aliens returned to their ship.  
  
The door to the lounge waited closed at the end of the hallway, the final barrier between him and his son. Jack didn't hesitate but firmly opened the door. DK, Lisa, Mark, and their two boys followed him in.  
  
Two heads looked up: John standing and the Human-like woman sitting on the edge of the couch. Recognizing them, she stood. Brushing aside the question of why she was there, Jack turned his attention to his son. John looked good, he thought smiling. Older perhaps, and different in black, but his boy with Leslie's nose and his grandfather's eyes was there just a few feet away.  
  
"Dad." That one word said everything. The next instant, the Crichton clan descended on their lost sheep in a storm of laughter and happy exclamations.  
  
"I still can't believe it!" "You must tell us everything!" "We missed you so much!" "It's so amazing you made it home!" "My God, John, you've got muscles!" This last from Lisa who gave his arm an appreciative pat.   
  
"What? You saying I was puny before?"  
  
"She wouldn't be wrong." Jack turned in surprise to the alien woman who'd spoken - in English! She smiled at their shocked expressions. Would wonders never cease.  
  
John, also grinning at their surprise, gently cupped her elbow and drew her into the group. "Enough insulting me. Everyone, I'd like you to meet Aeryn Sun."   
  
"She speaks English!" DK exclaimed.   
  
"It's a microbe thing. I'll explain later," said John. He turned to Aeryn and waved a hand in their direction. "As you've probably guessed, the king of the obvious is DK. My dad, Jack, my little sister Lisa and her husband Mark, and - my God, you're huge!" John really noticed the boys for the first time.  
  
"Robert and Ben," Lisa finished the introductions proudly. At fourteen, Robert was trying, and failing, to look cool while Ben, ten, wiggled in place.  
  
"You were this big when I saw you last." John held his hands about two feet apart.  
  
"I was just a baby," said Ben helpfully.  
  
"I remember babysitting you guys a couple times," said John. "Do you remember?" he asked Robert.  
  
"Sort of," said Robert. "I only remember the airplane."  
  
"Yeah," John nodded. "So Melanie didn't come?" His eyes turned to Jack who found he couldn't support their weight, his last conversation with his youngest daughter ringing in his ears.  
  
"She couldn't get free but you'll see her soon I'm sure," he said. "She's married now with two boys."  
  
"Melanie's married?" By mutual agreement, they moved to the sitting area. Aeryn and Jack settled on either side of John on the couch, Lisa, Mark, and DK in chairs across from them. They boys ended up on the end between their parents and Aeryn.  
  
"Twice in fact," Lisa answered. "Her first marriage lasted about a year, year and a half, and didn't end well. Ryan's great though. They got married in 2005 just after the Farscape II launch in November. It was small but at the cutest little chapel -"  
  
"Wait," John interrupted, "Farscape II?"   
  
Jack smiled at his obvious surprise, easing into the conversation. "You didn't think your death would stop the Farscape Project did you? Your theory worked. It worked so well in fact that we couldn't recover the module."  
  
"We're trying to work out a fuel ratio for the Farscape III," DK added. "Do you still have the Farscape I?" Jack couldn't help but laugh at DK's barely contained excitement at the prospect. It had been a long time since he'd seen his honorary son so unconditionally happy.  
  
John glanced at Aeryn who, from the turn of her mouth, was amused as well. "More or less. You probably wouldn't recognize her."  
  
"Did you put in a hetch drive? We still haven't figured out how it works."  
  
"Oh, Lordy, here we go. They're gonna be talking nothing but shop now," Lisa rolled her eyes.  
  
DK took the jibe with a sheepish smile. "Okay, forget the hetch drive. I have so many questions, and I know you're gonna get to them later, but I have to ask just one. The curiosity is killing me."  
  
Laughing at DK's anguish with the rest of them, John nodded.  
  
"Who or what is the translator that was here before?"   
  
Silence met the question as John and Aeryn exchanged a glance that held none of their earlier laughter. Watching them, Jack almost felt the tie that bound them together and wondered again what John's life was like out there. Lisa, ever the social butterfly, quickly changed the subject.  
  
"So." She turned to the alien woman. "I love your necklace. I'd ask where you got it but I doubt it would do me any good. Does it mean anything special?" Aeryn just stared at her a moment, then suddenly smiled and looked back at John, saying something in her alien language. Like magic, the smile transformed her into a woman of incredible beauty.  
  
"What?" asked Lisa looking back and forth between the pair. For that's what the were Jack realized when he noticed the same star necklace around John's neck.  
  
"You're married," he breathed, surprised and happy all at once. Lisa gasped, DK and Mark didn't know who to look at, and the boys were doing fish imitations.   
  
John nodded. "Our six-year-old is your translator." His thumb came up and rubbed his lip like it always did when he was nervous. The familiar gesture for some reason just added to Jack's happiness.  
  
"I'm so happy for you!" He grabbed John in another hug that was returned just as fiercely. The others, set free from the spell, leapt forward with congratulations. While he gave Aeryn a peck on the cheek, Jack heard Ben whisper to his brother, "It's like one of those books. Our aunt is an alien." Jack couldn't have cared less.  
  
"I want to hear all about it!" Lisa declared when they resettled into their respective seats. "How you met, was it love at first sight, the wedding, everything!"  
  
"It was definitely not love at first sight," said Aeryn launching the story of their distrustful meeting in one of Moya's cells after being picked up from space and going on to describe their short wedding on the ship years later. The time quickly passed, and before Jack knew it there was a rap on the door. It opened hesitantly revealing Jeremy in the hallway.  
  
"I'm afraid I need to steal John and Aeryn away," he apologized.  
  
Nodding, Jack stood with the rest to say goodbye. "We'll be there when the shuttle takes off," he said giving John a last hug. "Aeryn, I'm very happy to have met you and I look forward to spoiling my grandkids."   
  
"Thanks for coming," said John.  
  
"We'll see you later," Jack replied. John nodded and followed Jeremy out with Aeryn by his side. They watched them go silently. Staring at their retreating backs, Jack smiled feeling warm all over. Married. His son was alive, married and happy. He couldn't ask for anything more.  
  
  
  
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DK once again found himself on the runway waiting for John. This time however, he was waiting for his best friend to finish speaking with Oursler and take the shuttle back to Moya with his friends and his wife. DK still couldn't believe John was married!  
  
A noise behind him caught his attention and he turned and saw one of the news trucks pulling closer. The media had been everywhere for the past week, practically camped out in the press room. They'd asked him for interviews he'd mostly refused - it was crazy.  
  
Back on the red carpet, John shook hands with Oursler then the ambassadors from the major countries. In all there were only about twenty who made up the escort: IASA First Contact people, a few diplomats, and him and Jack. Lisa and Mark had decided to skip the formal goodbyes and the ever present press looking for an angle.   
  
The gray aliens started down the carpet followed soon after by John and Aeryn. They were going now but this time it wasn't forever. Still, DK felt a kind of loss that John had decided to go back to the ship, even though he knew his friend had two kids waiting on him. When the group stopped suddenly, DK thought he had changed his mind. But before he could even brush the thought away as wishful thinking, John turned and yelled, "Down!"  
  
All hell broke loose. Automatic fire rained from behind, screams, shrieks, people running every which-way. On the ground, DK searched desperately for Jack but couldn't find him in the chaos. The woman next to him screamed when a bullet sliced into her arm and blood splattered on his cheek. The next thing he knew, someone was yanking on his arm and pulling him to his feet towards the shuttle, the nearest shelter.   
  
DK ran. He ran as fast and as hard as he could for sanctuary, the whole escort running with him. One of the gray aliens was scrambling up the steps closely followed by the first of the Humans. There was no sign of John or Jack. Amid the noise of gunfire and panicked shouting, DK could only focus on running. When he reached the steps, a noise more horrible exploded behind him and knocked him into the steps with a wave of heat. The people behind him screamed at him to hurry.   
  
Seconds later he was safe inside. The cabin was crowded and noisy with panic. No one knew what was happening, everyone was talking at once. John burst through the door and slammed his hand against the bulkhead. "Get us the frell out of here!" he yelled before dropping to the floor. It was then that DK saw why he looked distorted. He carried Aeryn, bleeding and unconscious. DK glanced around looking for Jack again, but it was too crowded and dark to see anything clearly.  
  
There was more noise, more shouts, and by the door John was holding his own coat against Aeryn's wound. Dimly DK realized they were taking off.  
  
  
  
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End Part Two 


	3. Battlefield Moya

Ray of Smoke  
by Tassos  
  
Part Three is dedicated to my friends who encouraged me while I panicked and were patient with me when I left them to write in the library, even without understanding why the hell I'm doing this or even what it's about exactly. (Et non, je ne vais pas la traduire!)  
  
  
  
Ray of Smoke  
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Part 3: Battlefield Moya  
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Chapter 1: M*oya's A*erial S*ort of a H*ospital  
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"I need bandages!" John couldn't think farther than stopping the blood. His leather coat was all but useless for staunching Aeryn's shoulder wound. She was unconscious too, but a quick eye check promised no major head damage from the fall. But the blood loss worried him.   
  
The objective part of his brain told John that the transport pod was both noisy and crowded. He saw DK through several pairs of legs sitting stunned and out of breath on the floor. Louder shouts pulsed around him, one sounded like D'argo over the comm, but John barely noticed. Right now his head had space for only one thought.  
  
"Chiana!" he shouted. Aeryn's blood pooled around his knees; under his fingers her pulse grew weaker. The thud of the aid kit dropping beside him came none too soon with Chiana just behind. Quickly, the Nebari helped him replace his coat with a compress.  
  
"How bad?" she asked breathlessly.  
  
"Dunno. She's losing blood." John rummaged one handed through the aid kit for the syringe of blood clotters. Finding it, he emptied it into Aeryn's collarbone. Now there was nothing more to do except keep pressure on the wound until they got to Zhaan's apothecary. Nothing but frelling wait.   
  
"John, are you there?" D'argo's voice finally penetrated the haze of his mind.  
  
"Aeryn's hit," he lost no time telling the Luxan. "Looks bad so tell Jool to be ready when we land."  
  
"What the frell happened down there?"  
  
"We were attacked by a news van."  
  
"Some of the Humans were shot too," added Chiana.  
  
"Humans?"  
  
"We've got a podfull with us." John glanced around. Shock was settling in among the scientists and politicians. Arguments, tears, and in some cases blank silence mixed with the moans of pain from those wounded. No one knew who to turn to. Chiana, also looking around, patted his shoulder then rose with the aid kit to help those hurt. John turned back to Aeryn's pale face, silently praying to gods he didn't believe in for her to be okay.  
  
The trip to Moya was short; to John it didn't seem long before the docking web hauled them into the hangar where D'argo was waiting at the bottom of the steps. Together they rushed Aeryn to the apothecary where Jool shot questions at John as she hooked up monitors and a blood transfusion for the downed ex-Peacekeeper. He answered as best he could while he watched, helplessly holding onto a slack hand.   
  
It had happened so fast - but then it always took just one moment for things to spin wildly out of control. As soon as Chiana had uttered her warning, John had stopped thinking and simply reacted. Now, standing still while Jool worked, the adrenaline high that had gotten him through the last twenty minutes suddenly crashed, leaving John feeling empty. The bitter taste of betrayal settled on his tongue - having half-expected it only made it worse. And now Aeryn had paid the price for his misplaced trust.  
  
He closed his eyes. "Just tell me I didn't kill her again," he said.   
  
He could hear Jool and D'argo breathing and the noise of the approaching Humans in the corridor.  
  
A beat. "You didn't kill her," said Jool.   
  
The wave of relief was almost too much for John to bear, but nevertheless the weight of guilt eased somewhat. Reluctantly, he moved aside at Jool's prodding so she could get at the shoulder and let D'argo shove him onto a stool.  
  
"Here," the Luxan handed him a wet cloth before going back to help Jool. Accepting it, John noticed the blood on his hands for the first time. More blood. And they'd been so close to leaving in peace this time.  
  
John had just begun cleaning himself up when the noise from the corridor burst into the apothecary. The shell-shocked escort followed Fil and Medri in, clamoring for doctors and explanations. "Crichton! Crichton!" he recognized Oursler bearing down on him, followed by Regie and his father - Dad was here? Here and apparently not wounded, he saw with relief. "Crichton, what the hell is going on?! Why did you bring us here? I want explanations and I want them now, you hear me?!" shouted Oursler.  
  
"Director -" Regie laid a hand on Oursler's shoulder that was roughly shaken away.  
  
"No! This man was throwing grenades and I want a goddamned explanation!"  
  
"And what the frell was I supposed to do?!" John shook off his momentary surprise and jumped to his feet. "Let them kill us?!"  
  
"You *murdered* them!!"  
  
"I seem to remember them attacking us first! It was self defense and you'd be dead if we hadn't fought back!"  
  
"You -"  
  
"Everyone not bleeding get the frell out!" Jool interrupted. "OUT!" She stamped her foot and pointed at the door.  
  
"I'll not be ordered around -"  
  
"GET OUT!" D'argo's roar silenced the room. Oursler stared slack-jawed up at all of D'argo's seven feet for the first time. With a last wide-eyed look at John, the Director let Regie pull him away.  
  
"Son?" His father looked at him with compassion but also the same expression he'd worn each time John had tried to sneak in after curfew, his first car accident, and every other teenage transgression that had betrayed his father's trust.  
  
John turned away. He finished wiping the blood away angry at Oursler for being stupid, angry at his Dad for not understanding, and angry at himself that he ever thought he could go back to Earth.  
  
"John, please," his Dad tried again.  
  
"Not now," he said harshly, throwing the rag on the table. He wanted neither lecture nor comfort. A hand on his back made him start, but it was only Chiana with Winona. Grimly, he accepted his weapon and strapped her to his leg.  
  
  
  
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Of all the people they'd brought onto Moya, the Humans were, in Medri's opinion among the most curious. They were more subdued now that their comrades were being looked after, the panic replaced by acceptance for the moment. For a non-stellar society they were handling the situation well. A handful still had that wild look of terror of the unknown in their eyes but the others kept them close while they murmured to each other about Moya. Medri supposed discovery was a way of escaping the reality of their situation.  
  
"This way, you frelling coclemied welnitz!" Filalla's sudden loud shout brought the group up short, the Humans falling silent as suddenly as a comm cutting off. Craning his neck over heads, Medri saw the three legged man pulling one of the Humans back from a wrong turn. He could practically feel their guests holding their collective breath as they watched the scene, the calm a microt before melting into tension. The poor things couldn't understand a single word they spoke and it didn't help that, while Filalla was shorter than most of the Humans, he was still terrifying when he was as angry as he was now.   
  
"Follow. Me." Fil enunciated carefully, poking his chest on each word for emphasis. The Human smiled weakly and nodded, eyes wide and scared. "Idiot," Fil muttered then turned back down the main tier. Tentatively and with another growl from Filalla, the Humans followed. They passed through another tier before they resumed their quiet chatter in relief.  
  
"I thought he was going to shoot him or something," one of the men in front of Medri said quietly.  
  
"Me too. It's so nerve wracking not knowing what's going on," his companion replied. "At least at Canaveral we knew they wouldn't hurt us, but after what happened and what the director said...it's all different now. Like playing with fire."  
  
Medri snorted. In his experience, just about *everything* was like playing with fire. The two men turned in surprise and stopped suddenly when they saw him, apprehension on their faces. Giving them both a soft push to get them walking again Medri said, "I'm not going to eat you," which only made them flinch. Right, couldn't understand; they thought he was going to eat them anyway. "This is ridiculous. Pilot, can we get some DRD's with microbes down here?" The two men were glancing over their shoulders at him every few microts. Medri tried smiling to reassure them but it didn't seem to help. Instead it made him feel like a moron with defective children.  
  
Didn't they have interspecies cultures different of their own? Every planet did, or at least had factions of some sort. Of course, looking at his own planet where the Blues had been fighting the Yellows for millennia even after they'd gone out into space, Medri really couldn't fault them for being afraid. He himself had been a partisan, fighting against the Blue government in the streets of Moran for the better part of his life until the Nebari Takeover had changed everything. He'd rallied mobs, helped organize coups d'etats, and been a twisting knife in the foot of the authorities in general.   
  
Sometimes a leader would pop up calling for cooperation but Medri had never believed in it, hadn't even wanted to try until the Takeover. Who knew? The common Nebari threat had temporarily united his people, maybe it would last. An idle wish, he knew. Not after the new joint government had exiled almost everyone who'd put it in place, including him. Three cycles and Medri still wanted to pound the Senate into the concrete for it. He'd lost everything: power, respect, the only home he'd ever known, his meager family. He had been broken by the news of his exile, after everything he'd done, the difficulties of working with Blues and off-worlders, the loss; he didn't know what would have become of him if Chiana hadn't offered to take him with her to Moya.  
  
He'd thought it was another planet under the Nebari's heavy hand that he had no desire to help liberate. But Chiana had tilted her head in that way of hers when he'd asked. "She's a leviathan," she'd told him. "I guess she's home. The closest I'll ever find anyway," which had surprised Medri. Chiana had been a part of the Resistance when he'd met her and she'd clearly been around the galaxy a few times. He hadn't thought her the type to call anyplace home, much less a ship where order was the norm. When he'd asked if the captain would take him, she'd laughed. "All of them will take you, at least the ones that count." With nowhere else to go, he'd followed her on that slim recommendation. He'd been shocked at first by the flotsam and utter chaos - his own gang was better organized - but he didn't regret it.  
  
As they reached tier 21, one of the tiers outfitted for refugees, a commotion up by Filalla jolted Medri back to the present and the little party to a halt. "They're gonna kill us!" "Watch your feet!" "They sting!" The DRD's had arrived. Medri rolled his eyes then quickly grabbed a pair of Humans trying to run back the way they'd come. He managed to hold them still long enough for them to be injected before they broke away shouting. Medri let them go. They wouldn't get far if they ran since he'd locked the last door they'd come through. But they didn't run, merely pressed themselves against the bulkhead, staring at Medri with a mix of resignation and fear. He thought they looked silly. One of them was one of the two he'd scared earlier.  
  
"I told you I'm not going to eat you," he told them, a slight smile dancing across his mouth. The two stared then looked at each other, then back at Medri. "And you're not going to die; it was just microbes." They continued to stare stupidly.  
  
"Um... You're speaking..."  
  
"And you understand. That's generally what translator microbes do." Medri glanced towards the rest of the group. They'd calmed as well, no longer terrified. Many smiled in relief at their unbased fear, taking comfort like John often did in humor. Up at the very front however Fil was shouting with someone, their two voices carrying easily down the corridor. Filalla was winning.  
  
"I don't frelling care if it was not authorized by *you*!" His friend overrode the Human's argument forcing him to shut up. "We need to frelling communicate and thanks to *you*, Aeryn is bleeding to death and John has definitely had enough correllious dren for one day - I will not ask him to waste his time translating! So don't you dare accuse me of breaking any frelling agreement! That was done by *you* before we left the damn surface! So you will shut up and listen while I explain how the frelling door works!!!"  
  
The other blustered but Fil quickly and loudly cut him off. "Either you shut up or you won't see the outside of a cell until you leave! And I won't waste any food on you either."  
  
The negotiator, Reginard, pulled the other back. "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he said, placatingly. "Mr. Oursler was simply surprised. It has been a trying day."  
  
"Make whatever excuses you want. He yells again and I'll throw him out an airlock myself. He wants to talk to us, he talks through you. Is that understood?"  
  
"Absolutely," Reginard nodded. "Now, I believe you were going to explain the   
door."  
  
Following his lead, the Humans all looked at the cell door next to Fil and quietly listened while he showed them how it worked. Communication or dictation, Medri shrugged to himself as his friend began the same speech they gave the refugees. Filalla certainly had a way with people.  
  
  
  
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Rhia hurt. Her stomach clenched, her chest burned, and her eyes stung but she didn't want to cry. That was for babies. She was older and braver and besides, Seth wasn't crying anymore so she couldn't start now in front of everyone. No, she had to eat like normal. Except nothing was normal now.  
  
"I don't like these things," she declared, stabbing savagely at the fried vegetables with her fork. They tasted old and sour in her mouth after weekens of eating them, even fried. And they were on a *gray* plate which didn't help the taste.  
  
"Rhia, just eat." Dad sighed beside her. He looked at her tiredly until she shifted her death grip then turned toward his other side. "Seth, use your fork." He put said utensil into her brother's greasy hand. Rhia watched him and Dad, D'argo and Emmerit, Chiana and Essor. All of them ate as if it was normal. Her stomach knotted in protest.  
  
"I don't like them!" she repeated louder this time.  
  
"Rhia, eat. We'll trade for new food with Earth before we leave, all right?"  
  
"No! I won't eat it!" The burning pounded till she could hardly breathe.   
  
"Rhia," Dad set his fork down but she didn't wait for him to finish.  
  
"Never! I hate Earth! I hate Humans! An' I'll never eat their frelling food!" Needing to scream, strike, anything before she exploded, Rhia grabbed her plate and flung it as hard as she could at Dad, because somehow it was all his fault. Then she ran, sobbing in pain because nothing was right: Mama was wounded bad, the stupid Humans who were supposed to be good were bad, everyone was eating as if it was all right, and it was old food off a gray plate!  
  
Rhia couldn't see through the tears that burned down her cheeks, but it didn't matter. Her cries echoed strangely off Moya's ribs while she searched for a place to hide. Everything hurt inside and it would never get any better. Never! Because it was all *wrong*!  
  
She didn't know when or where she finally collapsed from exhaustion, just that her fists hurt wonderfully from pounding the floor in frustration. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair, she sobbed. Dad's shirt had had blood on it, so had Chiana's. Mama was hurt and unconscious and might never wake up like Edinnal. The Humans were her Dad's people but they were nothing like him. They were stupid and mean and...and..., they were!  
  
"Shh," a hand on her back gently curved to pull her close. Rhia was too tired to resist and instead latched onto her Dad with what little strength she had left. It was easier to cry into his shoulder than Moya's floor. Wrapped in his arms she felt safe. The burning eased but the holes were still tearing her to shreds. "Shhh. It's all right," he crooned. "It'll be all right." He repeated it softly and just held her while she sobbed her heart onto his sleeve.  
  
Time stilled and her emotions lay like a weight over them while she cried, too thick to move. Why was everything so wrong again? Dad's soothing voice eased the rage Rhia didn't want to let go of. She *wanted* the pain and the misery, to fight against the peace he offered, but she found in the end she didn't have the strength, and her sobs softened into hiccups.  
  
"Why do the Humans hate us?" she demanded when she caught her breath enough to ask. "Is it 'cause we're different?"   
  
"Some of them," Dad answered. He brushed her hair out of her face with a gentle hand. "But not all the Humans hate us."   
  
"But they shot Mama!"  
  
"And they shot at the Humans with us. Humans aren't all the same, Rhia." He hugged her close rubbing her back. Rhia wiped her eyes with a corner of his sleeve. "It's like the Nebari or the Peacekeepers," Dad went on. "They've done some pretty terrible things. But does that make Mama or Chiana bad?"  
  
Rhia thought about it. She thought about the refugees she'd seen on Moya, battered and chased from their homes by the war. Emmerit had lost her home because of the Peacekeepers, Medri his because of the Nebari. But he loved Chiana anyway. And Mama would never hurt defenseless people, ever! And she'd been a Peacekeeper.  
  
"No," she finally answered. "But *why* would they would want to be mean like that?" Rhia didn't get it. They weren't at war; they were Dad's people!  
  
"I don't know, baby," Dad sighed. "They have their reasons, I'm sure. Fear maybe."  
  
Rhia cuddled closer, tired of everything. Dad didn't say anymore. It still wasn't fair, but the burning rage had drained away with her tears. They sat together in the corridor for some time, Dad's hand on her forehead soothing away the rest of everything.  
  
"John," his comm broke the silence.  
  
"Yeah, Jool." Rhia looked up at Dad who in turn looked down at her. It was about Mama.  
  
"Aeryn's waking up. You can come see her for a few minutes if you'd like."  
  
A smile split Dad's face. "We'll be right there," he said. Rhia suddenly felt light as air, tired but ready to fly because Mama had woken up. Maybe things would be okay after all. She scrambled to her feet and looked down at Dad who was still sitting. She offered him a hand up which he accepted saying, "What do you say we go find Seth?"  
  
  
  
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A throbbing pain welcomed Aeryn back to consciousness. It emanated from her left shoulder, behind her eyes, and just about everywhere else. All in all, it was bearable; she'd certainly had worse.  
  
From the hum, she was back on Moya which was a relief. She'd woken up injured in too many strange places, most not holding the best of intentions toward her, for her to be comfortable anywhere else. She still hated being wounded, always would, but at least she didn't have to think of escape plans at the same time. Thinking was not a good idea at the moment.  
  
"Aeryn?" It took her a microt to recognize Jool's voice but with the question came another level of awareness. Little noises of people moving, cloth rustling, various machinery, the drip of water. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to open them. Once she succeeded, she closed them again - the light hurt. She tried again, and this time the gold-skinned Interion came into focus above her.   
  
Speaking was more difficult; her first attempt grated on her dry throat. Gratefully, she accepted the water Jool offered. "John?" she finally managed.  
  
"He's on his way. He wasn't hurt," Jool told her. Aeryn closed her eyes again, this time in relief. "Chiana and Filalla are fine too."  
  
"The vehicle?" Aeryn remembered it bearing down on them, and her pulling out an explosive, but she had been hit before she could throw it. Afterwards everything went black - the source of her headache she imagined.  
  
"I think John destroyed it. One of the Humans was yelling at him about it." Aeryn frowned, puzzled. "The ones with you on the landing pad are all on Moya. Five of them are wounded," Jool explained. "How does your shoulder feel?"  
  
"Hurts, but not bad." Jool made a sound that was probably disbelief, but she didn't have time to interrogate further because just then two sets of small footsteps pattered through the door.  
  
"Mama!" Aeryn turned and smiled when she saw her children running towards her, John following just behind. He'd shed his coat and vest and looked tired but nonetheless happy to see her awake. He and Jool helped the kids up onto stools on her uninjured side of the high examining table.  
  
"Are you okay?" asked Seth as soon as he was installed. "Dad says Jool says you'll be okay." He gingerly touched her hand, his forehead pinched with worry.  
  
Aeryn smiled. "I'm doing better now that you're here." She still hurt, but knowing her family was safe was enough to dull the pain.  
  
"Dad killed the bad Humans for you," put in Rhia. "And there's good Humans here now." Her eyes and nose were red from crying, and Aeryn wanted nothing more than to hold her close. Instead she settled for taking her hand and giving it a weak squeeze.  
  
"Are there? You'll have to tell me about them since I don't think Jool will let me go soon," she said. "But I'll be better in a few days."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really," Aeryn smiled. Rhia bent and hugged her arm. Seth too leaned in for a handhold, imitating his sister. John stepped forward and laid a hand on each of their backs murmuring, "Gently, gently."  
  
"I love you, Mama!"  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
"Come on," said John. "Mama needs her sleep. And so do you." He eased the pair back but they were reluctant to let her go.  
  
"I'll be here in the morning," she said. "Now go get ready for bed. No arguments." Surprisingly, they didn't offer any. When she looked at him, John gave her only a tiny smile as he ushered them away.  
  
"Go finish supper with Chiana, then pj's and dentics. I'll be by to tuck you in, okay?"  
  
"Night, Mama." The pair waved like two lost urchins, walking backward out of the apothecary.   
  
John watched them go, turning to Aeryn only when they were out of sight. "They were real worried about you," he said. He looked down and paused before going on. "Aeryn, I'm sorry for all this. If -"  
  
"John," she cut him off before he could start blaming himself out loud. "It's done. There were no guarantees." She waited till he looked at her then opened her hand which he gently took into his.  
  
"Are you in pain?"  
  
Aeryn considered it and shook her head. "I'll live."  
  
"Don't play the stoic soldier with me."  
  
"Really, I'm all right. I'm tired."  
  
"I'm staying right here." He squeezed her good hand; his was warm and comforting where hers was cold. Aeryn closed her eyes and let herself drift to sleep. They had time to talk later.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 2: Carnival Mirrors  
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The conference room was in an uproar when President Landers walked in. Secretary of State Andrew Clermont and Secretary of Homeland Defense Brian Wheeler were each talking with their people, voices rising and papers shuffling anxiously back and forth. A few generals from the Pentagon were also there, as well as Locher from IASA, and most of Landers' own staff. Each group drowned out the others while they competed with ringing cell phones.  
  
Perhaps the most disturbing part of the chaos before him was the sight of Lewis Sheinson in his shirtsleeves with his tie loosened around his neck. His aide hadn't looked this harried since the embassy attack in Pakistan had sent him running all over Capitol Hill. He was presently standing in a corner of the conference room talking on his cell phone while he worked his Palm Pilot which he had hooked up to the hardworking printer.  
  
"Mr. President." The two words brought the room to a halt as everyone turned to look at Landers. Then like a freeze frame released back into motion, there was a flurry of rearranging and last minute paper shuffling - Lewis scooped up his printouts and, with Richard's help, rapidly sorted them into folders, one of which landed in front of the president, blue as usual.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Landers began after his people finally settled into their seats, "I have gotten some very mixed reports in the last half hour and some worried phone calls from our partners overseas." Across from him, Clermont nodded in agreement. "The press is calling for the heads of just about everyone involved with IASA and specifically the US Government. Now I want answers." He made eye contact with the serious faces listening to him. "What happened, how, and what we are facing now. Locher, let's start with you."   
  
To the left, the IASA liaison cleared his throat and stood up. "Mr. President, preliminary reports from Canaveral - eyewitness accounts and distance news footage - show a breach in press security. The perpetrators hijacked a news van, bluffed their way past the secondary perimeter around the runway and opened fire on our departing guests. The sentry that let them by said they showed authentic looking documents permitting them within two hundred meters of the aliens. He gave a description of the men to the police who are currently running them through local, federal, and international databases. They should have more evidence for the investigation once the remains of the van cool down." He paused, pulled out a folder and passed it to Landers. A quick look showed it was a copy of the report with the details. He'd read it later. Locher continued when he looked up.   
  
"The escort headed by Director Oursler and Thomas Reginard took refuge in the alien shuttle when the van opened fire. We believe there were wounded; we know that the alien woman, Erin Sun, was shot. John Crichton destroyed the van and its occupants with some sort of explosive he had on his person then boarded the shuttle, which then took off immediately at 6:14 PM. IASA has been trying to contact Moya since the attack, but they're not answering."  
  
"All the people on the runway are now on Moya?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Locher motioned to the report. "There is a complete list there. Among them, IASA Director Phil Oursler; the First Contact Team liaisons Thomas Reginard from the State Department, Jeremy Seymore from IASA, and Michel Soutien from the EU. Eight other IASA personnel, seven diplomats - two US, the rest foreign - and Jack Crichton, John Crichton's father."  
  
"The Canadian, French, Russian, German, and Japanese embassies have been calling us non-stop demanding action," added Clermont. "The other IASA member countries are also holding us responsible for the breach in security. Everyone wants their people back on Earth a.s.a.p., but I don't know what we can do until Crichton talks to us. Everyone I've spoken to is on edge, especially since Crichton blew up the van. Added to the intergalactic war he brought us that sounds as fanciful as 'Star Wars', people are wondering what his real intentions are and if he's even Human. The good faith that started this has cracked and is disintegrating as we speak. If we don't get results soon, we're *really* going to have a crisis on our hands."  
  
Silence met Clermont's words. Looking at him, Landers read the seriousness of the situation on his friend's face and wished everything could have just gone right for once. The world did not need this now. Disconnected as they incident might be from geopolitics, the ramifications would no less shake the balance and web of trust that held the nations of the world in peace. Who knew how the Middle East would react to another failing of the Great Capitalist Nation; the new arms treaty would probably fall apart as a result, a piece of paper they desperately needed.  
  
"Do we know where the shooters came from?" asked Landers.  
  
"We're still looking into it. We should know soon," said Wheeler. "If it is a terrorist group, they'll probably claim responsibility. But with all the unrest, they could just as easily have been unaffiliated Americans."  
  
"What about Crichton? How did he get past security armed?"  
  
"To be honest, we didn't thoroughly screen Crichton or the aliens," said Locher. "They were skittish enough as it was, and we were more concerned with threats from the protesters. After all their demands, no one thought they would betray the conditions by bringing weapons. In my opinion, they would have left without using them. It was just another precaution."  
  
"Opinions won't convince the press," muttered Richard. Landers could only agree.   
  
"I want to know as soon as Crichton responds. He is going to explain himself one way or another." Paranoid son-of-a-bitch had just lost him a lot of good will and Landers didn't plan of forgiving him. "What else do I need to know?"   
  
  
  
  
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Reginard was proud of his little group and thanked God he was with IASA personnel and diplomats, people who were trained to deal with crises. The situation, however bizarre and unprecedented, had only cracked three people: Oursler, a junior diplomat from Canada on his second assignment, and one young woman with IASA. After the scene earlier, each one had been assigned a buddy to make sure they stayed separated and calm. Reginard didn't want any more outbursts complicating issues, especially from Oursler. The threat earlier hadn't looked like a bluff, and even if it was, he had no intention of calling it.  
  
Reginard and the fifty-year-old flight director, Tony Prow, had taken charge of the group now assembled in one of the four large rooms on their hallway. Filalla had informed them that they were locked in, so to take their minds off the imprisonment and restore a feeling a control, they had called a meeting to organize the household, so to speak. Looking down at the notes on his left arm - the scientists of course had pens but no paper - Reginard wondered how long they would have to stay here. One of the many questions on the list. God, he hoped they saw Crichton soon. He tried not to be prejudiced, but the aliens frankly unnerved him.  
  
Pulling his thoughts together, he turned back to the matter at hand. But before Reginard could announce the final list of room assignments, Filalla and the leopard spotted man walked in, each carrying a tray. The Human group watched in silence as the aliens brought what appeared to be food to the table next to Reginard - where he suddenly found himself under a pair of curious stares. Filalla's eyes squinted and he hunched forward slightly as if he was looking for a speck of dirt. Reginard had to force himself not to squirm under the close inspection. Finally, the alien straightened and looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. He exchanged a glance with his companion who just gave him a puzzled shrug, then said, "You know you could have just written on the floor."  
  
Startled in spite of himself, Reginard stepped back a little to re-establish his personal space. "We were not aware of your customs."  
  
"I don't write on the floor either but it's better than my skin," Filalla said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We usually use chips. Don't you use real paper? John does when he can find it."  
  
"Yes." Reginard was a little embarrassed. "We unfortunately don't have any paper and we didn't want to sully the ship," he explained. "Is there any available, you could get for us?"   
  
"I'll ask," the alien shrugged slowly, his shoulders rolling oddly under his shirt. The strange gesture was disconcerting. "Supper," Filalla waved a hand at the trays. Reginard looked away from him toward the unrecognizable food. Sci-fi visions of raw, wriggly worms popped into his head but this looked safe enough, cooked at least. The hand-sized pieces were off-white, but he couldn't tell if it was animal or vegetable.  
  
"You eat it. And don't worry, we wouldn't waste food poisoning you." Reginard looked up startled by the new voice: the leopard spotted alien had spoken for the first time. He seemed amused. Looking around, Reginard realized that they had all been staring at the food as if they had never seen its like before. They hadn't in many ways, he thought defensively, glancing back at the food. Well, here it goes. He picked up a piece with his fingers since there were no forks and, before he could think about it, took a bite. It tasted fried with a slight orangey tang mixed with something else he couldn't describe. It was definitely *not* chicken.  
  
"It's good," he smiled politely and took another bite. It really wasn't that bad, if a bit unusual.  
  
Filalla snorted. "Taste's like dren if you ask me."  
  
"You're only sick of it because we've been eating it for a monen," his companion retorted.   
  
Reassured by Reginard's approval, the group of Humans came up in twos and threes for their own portions. "You're not going to eat us for variety's sake are you?" one of the IASA men suddenly asked. There was a pause; everyone turned to the aliens.  
  
"Anything's edible fried," said the leopard man seriously. A shot of panic stabbed through Reginard, but before it could settle, a wicked grin revealing yellow tinted teeth spread across the alien's face. And to his surprise, the IASA engineer's as well.   
  
"Edible if you're Rygel," Filalla grumbled, turning to leave.  
  
Seeing his chance to get answers leaving, Reginard hurriedly crossed the room to their departing hosts. "Wait! Please wait, sir." When Filalla turned back around he added, "I'd like just a minute of your time."  
  
"It's late. We'll talk in the morning," said Filalla. He started to move off again but Reginard hurried after him.  
  
"No. We need to make a few things clear," he pressed on. "Are we prisoners here?"  
  
"Technically?" the alien sighed, stopped, and turned. "No. Practically, we're locking you on the tier for the late watch because you outnumber us. But we do that with just about everybody whose not paying us for transport. Nothing against you except the attack. We'll see about the morning."  
  
"Who will make that decision? The captain?"  
  
"We'll put it to a vote," he shrugged and turned to go again, but Reginard laid a restraining hand on his arm that he quickly snatched back again. The skin was cold and clammy. Filalla looked at him with a fierce gaze.  
  
"Enough of this. I'm going to sleep," the leopard alien broke the staring contest by walking between them towards the door. Watching him go, Reginard glanced at his watch. It was only seven.  
  
"What do you mean a vote?" he turned back to Filalla. From the way the gray alien stared at him, he had just dropped a few notches on the list of intelligent life forms.  
  
"A vote: everyone chooses either yes or no."  
  
Letting it go, Reginard moved on. "I'd like to see our wounded."  
  
"In the morning. Jool says they'll live. That it?" Filalla leaned forward to scratch his middle knee. Watching him, a shiver ran down Reginard's back and he was reminded just exactly where he was.   
  
"Yes, for now. I'll see you in the morning?" he asked.  
  
All he got in answer was another rolling shrug. "Maybe." Filalla turned down the hallway then without a backward glance. The door was still open from the other's departure. Reginard watched him walk through it on his three legs, then as it closed and the light turned red. One of the little yellow robots was staring at him. Unnerved, Reginard returned to his blessedly normal Humans.  
  
  
  
  
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Jack couldn't sleep. Old bones and tangled thoughts kept his eyes searching the curved ceiling for answers that remained in the unfamiliar shadows. Life was never simple, Jack knew that, but lost in its complexity he felt like he was floundering in deep water. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing John throw that damn grenade at the van, over and over again, without a flicker of emotion on his face. He saw John turn away from him in the medical bay and buckle the gun around his waist as if it naturally belonged there. He didn't want to think about it or consider what it meant, but his old brain wouldn't let the images go.   
  
His hopes of a happy reunion had been destroyed along with the news van, and he hadn't even realized it at first. John had had every reason to fight back, he'd told himself. *They* had opened fire first on a peaceful delegation; Aeryn was one of the wounded, it had been self-defense. But his arguments, reasonable at first, fell flat the more he thought about it, sounding like a bunch of excuses.   
  
Beneath was something Jack didn't want to touch but that nonetheless struggled to surface. *Why* had John been armed in the first place for a peaceful mission? How did he explain the cold face that didn't even bother to look back? The questions roiled in Jack's stomach as he slowly came to understand that he no longer knew his son. And it hurt, worse than when he thought him dead because the hole that had begun to heal with John's return was suddenly ripped anew, leaving raw, jagged edges.   
  
He'd believed another John had come home, one who would pop over for the afternoon to tell him about the latest on the Farscape Project and end up staying for diner and the game on TV. A John who hated guns and didn't wear black leather like some Hell's Angel. One who would never dream of actually killing another Human being as if it were part of the goddamned daily routine! It wasn't fair of God, Jack thought bitterly, to give him his son back just to have him be the kind of person Jack and Leslie raised him not to be. From the hour they had spent together, Jack had believed that everything would work itself out, but now he felt nothing but biting disappointment and a wellspring of grief. Jack feared the son he had lost was truly dead.  
  
He closed his eyes against the hailstorm of condemning images. Why, goddammit? Why had he been armed? Even if the change had saved his life, it was nothing like his John.  
  
Sighing in frustration, Jack rolled onto his side - and came face to face with a little girl not five feet away. She crouched by the wall with an adult's t-shirt pulled over her knees. Her black hair tumbled messily over her shoulders, and she watched him with clear blue eyes that made Jack's breath catch. Except for the hair color, she looked much as Melanie had as a child. There could be no mistake he was looking at his granddaughter, Rhia. She was beautiful.  
  
"Hello there," he said quietly.  
  
She didn't break eye contact, didn't move in fact, simply continued to watch him. Jack met her eyes and smiled to reassure her, enchanted. Her angelic face held a serious expression it wasn't quite comfortable with, but that was endearing nevertheless. Jack didn't know what she saw, but he didn't want her to be afraid.   
  
"You're my grandfather," she stated clearly after a few moments. "Jack."  
  
"And you must be Rhia," he replied. "It's an honor to finally meet you." She blinked once but didn't say anything. Jack wondered for a second if she had heard him but decided to let her take her time.   
  
"I have parents, but I've never had a grandfather before," she finally said. "Did you?"  
  
Surprised by the odd statement, Jack nodded, "I sure did."  
  
"Dad says he has two sisters and I have Human cousins. Do you know them?" Rhia went on.  
  
"Yes, I do." Jack smiled. He thought of his grandsons and wondered how they would react to the girl before him. "They're all boys. Robert and Ben are 14 and 10, and David and Peter are 4 and 1."  
  
"I'm six cycles old and I only know Seth and Essor, but they're little. Essor hasn't even started to talk yet," she imparted this news seriously. Jack smiled wider, amused by her sincerity and loving her for it.   
  
"You'll get to meet your cousins soon, I bet," he told her.  
  
"They'll come here?" she asked with wide-eyed surprise.  
  
"I don't know if they'll be able to, but you'll probably go down to Earth. You'd get to see your Dad's home too."  
  
Rhia shook her head, a small frown marking her forehead. "I don't like Earth, right now," she answered quietly but just as seriously as before. She looked away for the first time towards DK and Jeremy who were sharing the room. "But Dad says not all Humans hate us. Is that true?" Uncertainty showed through as her eyes bored into his for an answer.  
  
Suddenly, the conversation that had finally pulled his thoughts away from the attack brought it crashing back down on him as Jack realized what she was talking about and why she would hate Earth: her mother had been shot by Humans. The realization sent a wave of anger through Jack that his *granddaughter* whom he loved already, so innocent and vulnerable, had been touched by the violence. She should be playing with dolls and on a playground, for Christ's sake, not asking about how many people hated her. What kind of place did she live in where parents were special, grandparents unheard of, and violence the norm? His John would have protected her, he thought angrily, but the one he saw yesterday was a part of it.  
  
"Yes, it's true," Jack said strongly. "In fact, most Humans like you and would never hurt you."  
  
"How do you know?" Rhia asked, looking unconvinced.  
  
"I just do."  
  
Rhia digested this with another frown, then asked again, "But how?"  
  
"Because I've seen a lot of people who welcome you to Earth," Jack hoped that would be enough for her curiosity.  
  
"Did you really walk on Earth's moon?"  
  
The sudden change of subject evoked another smile out of Jack. It was just like Lisa, and Jack was happy to follow her to safer ground. "Yes, I did," he answered. Then Rhia surprised him by getting up, crawling under the covers, and making herself comfortable beside him.  
  
"Dad says its gravity is one sixth of Earth and it's like walking on Sorres without an atmosphere. Is that true?"  
  
"Walking on the moon was one of the best days of my life," Jack embraced the familiar subject.  
  
"Tell me." Rhia yawned. So Jack quietly told her about the selection and training, the flight, and finally the day he'd spent on the moon. By the time he finished, she was fast asleep with her head pillowed happily on his shoulder. Jack felt his heart go out to her again. His granddaughter. Holding her, his earlier turmoil eased. Somehow, he knew, he'd figure things out.   
  
A moment later it seemed, a soft noise woke Jack from a light doze; Rhia however didn't stir. Looking around for the cause, Jack found his son leaning against the wall just inside the open door.  
  
"Good morning," he said when he saw Jack was awake. He looked barely awake himself, hair mussed from sleep. He still wore black: an untucked t-shirt, the same leather pants, and unbuckled boots, but he was relaxed now, not a sign of his earlier anger and distrust. For the moment Jack saw the old John, and in this moment of peace, the one he wanted to hold onto. No matter what had changed, he was still his son.  
  
"Lose something?" Jack asked quietly. He sat up, careful not to wake Rhia.  
  
John smiled. "She does this every day. Our early bird alarm clock. Pilot keeps an eye on her." He nodded toward the red and yellow machine by the wall where Rhia had been sitting.   
  
"Everyday? Do you ever sleep?" Jack chuckled.  
  
"It's not just us, luckily. She pretty much rotates through everyone except Rygel and Filalla - they're apparently not very cuddly," John grinned and Jack smiled back. The gray alien taking care of them earlier didn't seem the cuddly type to him either.   
  
John pushed himself of the wall and came and sat down on the side of the bed. He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen on his daughter's face. The contrast with his earlier coldness was startling. "I think she does it to make sure we're safe," John said after a moment.   
  
Safe because their universe wasn't safe, thought Jack. Again he saw John throwing the grenade and putting on the gun that, when he looked, was still there. There had to be a reason.   
  
John was watching him look at the gun. "I need you to be okay with this, Dad," he said. Hurt and hope vied for dominance across his face. The face of one who wasn't a killer.  
  
"What happened to you, son?"   
  
"What didn't?" John snorted and looked down at Rhia. "I've changed, Dad. Maybe not for the better, but I had to change to survive."  
  
"By killing?"  
  
"When I have to."  
  
"There are other ways," Jack bit out before he could stop himself. John's calm admittance without a trace of shame went against every principle he held. There was no way he could just let his son act as if it were all right. "You have a family, John! What do you think you're teaching your daughter by solving problems with a gun!?"  
  
"How to survive to the ripe old age of seven!" John hissed back angrily. "It's not a nice universe out there, Dad, and I have to *protect* my family. If it's a choice between us or them, I'm gonna make frelling sure it's them!"  
  
"And that justifies it!?" Jack snapped back, his voice rising. Beside him Rhia stirred as did DK and Jeremy, woken no doubt by the argument. John noticed, throwing a quick glance in their direction.  
  
"Look, I didn't come here to fight," John turned back to him. He offered a weak smile without any of his earlier warmth behind it. "Just for Rhia. It's time for her to get up. Tell Regie someone will be by in about half an arn to take you to the center chamber for breakfast."  
  
He stood then, gently shaking his little girl awake. Rhia blinked her eyes open. "Mama?" she asked.  
  
"She's doing fine. We'll visit her as soon as she's awake, okay?" John held out a hand for her to take then looked back at Jack. He was going to say something but in the end simply nodded.  
  
Jack watched them leave, wishing things were different.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 3: Spinning Magic Eight Ball  
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"Does 'Chiana' mean anything in your language? I only ask because our names often have ancient meanings from old languages. Mine for example, Peter, means rock, the symbol of solidarity that dates back about two thousand years to the founding of Christianity, one of our major religions, and you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" The Human smiled self consciously and looked away. The woman of the bunch, Maria, chuckled and exchanged a knowing glance with Chiana.   
  
The two of them along with an older IASA man and John's father made up the small group Chiana was taking to the center chamber to eat. Since these Humans posed a minimal threat, they had decided to let them off their tier for breakfast in manageable groups as a show of trust. That and no one had wanted to haul food up to them again. After getting Essor fed, Chiana had jumped on the opportunity to change the routine.  
  
"I don't know if my name means anything," Chiana smiled at Peter. He looked up, his longish hair falling back into his face. He'd been asking questions the whole time they'd been walking, mostly about her, the Nebari and their customs, trying to get to know her as if they were chatting in a bar. He was very young by Chiana's standards and had an air of innocence about him that was endearing as he fumbled to make an impression. "What do you think it means?" she asked.  
  
"Me?" he asked, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "To me it will always mean 'Angel from the Stars'."   
  
Maria and the IASA man nearly choked trying to muffle their laughter. John's father, preoccupied by his thoughts, only smiled.  
  
Chiana paused, an amused twist to her lips: even she had to admit that was smooth. "You know, stars burn if you get too close," she blinked slowly and trailed a hand lightly down his arm.  
  
"I guess I'll just have to be careful then."  
  
"Peter, give it a rest already," Maria broke in. "I'm losing my appetite here."   
  
He looked at her with another sheepish smile. Tilting her head to get a better look at him, Chiana also smiled slowly. He was adorable.  
  
Turning down the next tier, they soon reached the center chamber where Emmerit was busy cooking, her way of getting out of escorting a group. "Sorry it's the same as your last meal, but it's all we have left," Emm apologized setting the plate of white vegetables on the table. From the shelf by the refrigeration unit, Chiana grabbed plates and cups.   
  
"Can we help?" asked Maria.   
  
"Nah, everything's ready," she told them, snagging the water jar and taking a seat.  
  
"Thank you again for allowing us to eat here," the older IASA man said as they followed her example. Chiana couldn't remember his name; she thought it started with a 'T' sound but she wasn't quite sure. She watched curiously while he patted the table around his plate, then, not finding a fork, shrugged and took two of the vegetables with his fingers.   
  
"You won't hurt us," Chiana belatedly replied. "It felt like the right thing to do."   
  
"After what happened..." Peter shifted uncomfortably and wouldn't meet her eyes. "We're really sorry about that."  
  
"Could have been worse," Chiana acknowledged. She actually would have been more surprised if nothing had happened at all. "What's John's phrase? Dren happens?"  
  
"Have you known him long?" John's father asked. Looking at him, Chiana noticed for the first time how much they resembled. They had the same set of the jaw, the same eyes.  
  
Realizing she was staring again, Chiana blinked and looked away. "Yeah, a long time. He's a good friend," she added, thinking back over the cycles.   
  
"How did you meet?" Jack asked.  
  
"I was being taken back to Nebari Prime to be mind cleansed. We took passage on Moya. To cut a long story to pieces, John set me free and convinced the others to let me stay."  
  
The Humans stopped eating in surprise. "You were a prisoner?" asked Peter quietly. He looked more shocked by this news than by everything else he'd seen.  
  
"Why? Do you like restraints?" she returned seductively, grinning when he blushed.  
  
"I didn't know you were a prisoner," Emmerit interrupted their flirting. "You were on Moya before you left the Resistance?"   
  
"I came aboard when Moya was pregnant," said Chiana, surprised Emm hadn't known.  
  
"The ship?" the T-man asked. "The *ship* was pregnant?!"  
  
Before Chiana could answer, John appeared in the doorway followed by Reginard. "Hey," he said. His eyes flickered over the room, locking on his father. "Sorry to interrupt your breakfast," he glanced at Chiana briefly before looking back at Jack, "but Rhia wanted me to ask if she and the boys could spend the day with you?"  
  
There was a silence, confusion once again passing over the other Humans' faces. The tension between father and son was palpable, making Chiana wonder how much John had told him while they were together on the planet. Obviously about Aeryn - he'd have to have been blind not to see it - and the children, maybe about his life the past few cycles. Whatever, his father was troubled by it.  
  
Finally a genuine smile eased over the old man's face. "I'd love for them to."  
  
John smiled as well, but his was in relief. "Thanks," he said before turning to Chiana. "Pip, that okay with you?"  
  
"It's fine -" She didn't have time to finish because just then the wall exploded. Rhia, Seth, and Essor burst from between two ribs in the shadows, the two boys tripping over each other and landing in a heap on the floor. Rhia nimbly jumped over them and ran to her grandfather.   
  
"See?" she called to Essor and Seth as they picked themselves up. "I told you he was real! I told them you were real," she turned to Jack. "That's my brother Seth, he's the white one, and Essor, he's the black one. He's Chi's. You'll really play with us today?"  
  
Chiana wanted to laugh at the wide eyed surprise on the others Humans' faces that quickly turned to amusement when the little girl started pulling Jack out of his seat talking as fast as an auctioneer.  
  
"Rhia, let him finish eating first," John admonished.  
  
"But Daad! It's already late and we only have now," Rhia whined, still tugging on Jack's arm.   
  
"He's not hungry," piped up Seth. He climbed onto a nearby stool and tipped Jack's plate. The vegetables slid to the floor in three successive plops. He showed the now empty plate to John. "See, Dad? Al' finished!"  
  
"Seth -"  
  
"John, it's all right," Jack interrupted laughing. He picked Seth up and settled him on his hip. "He's right, I'm not hungry."  
  
John rolled his eyes. "At least take a doggy bag." The tension between them gone, Jack did as ordered with help from Rhia who took extra "to feed the bats."   
  
"I'll be on the phone with Earth if you need me," John said. "They're all yours." Then with a final general wave, he and Reginard left turning toward command while Rhia pulled Jack in the opposite direction.  
  
Turning back to her charges, Chiana wanted to laugh. The Humans looked like they'd been hit by a transport pod. Maria opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, "I'm confused."  
  
  
  
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John was relieved his dad had accepted; he'd been half afraid he'd say 'no' after their earlier fight. Seeing him smile and laugh gave John hope that they could work things out like they finally had after Mom's death. He didn't want to go back to the sterile discussions and half hearted pretension that they were there for each other. Now they had another wall to tear down, even more formidable than the first, but it looked like some of the ice was beginning to thaw.  
  
John smiled to himself, thinking about the pleased surprise on his dad's face when the floorfleas had appeared out of nowhere. Regie gave him a quizzical glance but didn't break the silence that had accompanied them since the center chamber. Probably thought he belonged in the loony bin, thought John. Hell after yesterday, everybody probably did.  
  
"You have beautiful children," Regie said suddenly. His voice was neutral, not a hint of what he thought beneath the words. "How old are they?"  
  
"Six and three," John answered, his good mood turning defensive. "And don't get any ideas about science experiments. The first person who touches them is dead."  
  
"Whoa," Reginard held up a hand. "No one said anything about science experiments. No harm will come to them if they go down to Earth."  
  
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Thinking about it now, John should have made them wait outside for Dad. Of course, knowing the kids, they would have popped up again somewhere else, their curiosity getting the better of them.  
  
"Commander Crichton," Regie broke the silence, "don't take this the wrong way, but may I ask why you insist on seeing the worst of us? We welcomed you with no strings attached. I know there was a bomb and the shooting, but those people represent only a small portion of our population."  
  
"Small but effective," John replied lightly, noting the irony of being given the same lecture he'd given Rhia.   
  
"A step up in security -"  
  
"Regie, there are always holes in security. Trust me on that." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "As to why I'm so paranoid, my kids are half Human, half Sebacean. Unique in the universe. I've met enough psychos who would kill just for the chance to study such - how did that one guy put it, 'rare specimens'." The normally cool diplomat paled around the edges. "You know as well as I do, the same type of people exist on Earth. A few alien recreations, a brief look into history, you bet Humans scare me. We're here."  
  
John led the way into command and up to the strategy table. On the clamshell, Pilot's image flickered on. "Crichton," he said in greeting.  
  
"Hey, Pilot, how's it going? Regie meet Pilot. Pilot, Regie."  
  
The diplomat nodded politely, his lingering eyes betraying his surprise. "It's a pleasure."  
  
"Moya and I welcome you aboard, Ambassador Reginard."  
  
Regie started at the use of his proper name. "Uh... Thank you."  
  
"Pilot, anytime you're ready," said John. Might as well get it over with. A few microts later the view screen changed from the view of Earth to a suit in Mission Control. The poor man jumped, obviously startled by the sudden change of status.  
  
"Commander Crichton? Mr. Reginard?"  
  
"Good morning. I'd like to talk to the head honcho," John said cheerfully. The young man nodded hurriedly and picked up a cell phone.   
  
"Hold on please," he said as he dialed a number off a scrap of paper. "Excuse me, sir. Commander Crichton has contacted us. Yes, sir, he's still here." He listened for a moment, then hung up with a shaky smile. "They're on their way. It'll be about five minutes."   
  
Pilot had told him that Earth had been trying to get in touch with them since the attack but with John angry and occupied first by Aeryn, then the kids, there hadn't been anyone to reply. Now after half a night's sleep, he was ready to talk and find out just what the hell had gone wrong. Regie's reassurances of Earth's good intentions didn't mean squat: they hadn't stopped the bullets that landed six people flat on their backs in the apothecary.  
  
"So who do you think they've let out of the bag to talk to us?" John asked Regie while they waited.   
  
The man shrugged. "Someone from IASA probably. All alien contact is under their jurisdiction."  
  
"Good ol' global spirit. It's a small world after all," the tune jumped into John's head. "It's a small world after all. It's a small, small world," he sang, earning him another loony bin look from Regie and a slightly fearful one from the kid on the screen not unlike those his shipmates had given him when he had first come aboard. It was the look that said, 'bizarre creature.' So be it, thought John. He continued humming.  
  
They didn't have much longer to wait. A hundred microts later, three more suits replaced the nervous watchman in front of the screen. Introductions revealed an IASA deputy director, an IASA first contact lady, and a government rep. The deputy director, Scott, began with the standard greetings and apologies from IASA for the breach in security, sugar coating the problem in an obviously practiced speech. "IASA feels *certain* that we can resolve our differences and reopen channels of communication," he concluded earnestly. John had the impression he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.  
  
"Commander Crichton," Giller, the government rep, continued. Unlike Scott, his tone was abrupt and far from apologetic. "I'd like Mr. Reginard's report first before we begin talks." Without waiting for permission, Giller asked about the Humans and the wounded to which Regie told him all was well. They were fed and watered, and the wounded were being cared for in the medical bay. He gave their names and reported that the doctor expected them all to recover with minimal long term effects. He failed to mention the ravid scientists and the five star lodgings, but it was accurate enough.  
  
"So, Commander Crichton," Giller turned his cool gaze back to John. "It seems we have a situation on our hands."  
  
"You could say that," John replied.  
  
"Would you care to explain *why* you thought it necessary to kidnap twenty diplomats and IASA personnel? And *why* you refused to answer our hails?" The acid practically dripped from his words, sizzling the connection between them.   
  
"You want to tell me what the frell happened down there and why a peaceful conference turned into Tiananmen Square?" John met fire with fire.  
  
Giller didn't wither under his glare, in fact his own hardened under it. "Three men hijacked a news van and use forged papers to get within the perimeter. We are still investigating their identities."  
  
"Do you know who was behind it?"  
  
"We are still *investigating*." And would be every time he asked, John bet. Couldn't be sharing information with the enemy, now could they. "Now would you care to explain yourself?"  
  
"We were under fire, we had wounded, Moya was closer. And I wasn't about to let Aeryn be taken to a hospital."  
  
"She would have been cared for with the others."  
  
"In twice as much danger of being kidnapped herself to be someone's personal lab rat," John snapped back. Giller's nostrils flared, reminiscent of a fairy tale  
dragon about to fry his enemies to a crisp. Bring it on, John thought. He was more than ready.  
  
"You -!"  
  
"Mr. Giller," Regie interrupted over the other's rising voice. "To be fair everything happened very quickly. It was a snap decision and I'm sure the Commander will be more than willing to return us at the earliest convenience."  
  
Giller's lips thinned. "We would like our people back on the ground today."   
  
"When Jool gives the okay for the wounded we'll be happy to drop them off," John told him. There was a pause.  
  
"That's acceptable," Giller finally conceded. "How long will that be?"  
  
"Couple days maybe."   
  
"You have two days."  
  
"Or you'll what? Blast us with your photon torpedoes?"  
  
"Gentlemen, please," Regie interrupted once more, his diplomat sensibilities taking over. Scott and Henley, Jeremy's First Contact replacement, shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Two or three days. We'll let you know," John repeated lowering his voice.  
  
"Thank you," Giller grated out. "Now, why didn't you respond to our calls yesterday? We were very worried about our people, especially the embassies of the ambassadors in your escort."  
  
"Sorry." John hadn't spared much thought for the folks waiting back home. "I was busy."  
  
"Commander Crichton, as you are aware, is the only English speaker aboard," Regie cut in before Giller had a chance to attack.  
  
"And the translator?" Henley hesitantly yet hopefully asked. Even as John's gut clenched, Giller turned his frosty gaze on her, but waiting for an answer, Henley didn't notice.  
  
"She was indisposed," Regie replied smoothly. John glanced at him sideways, grateful he hadn't said anything about Rhia. Giller could draw his own frelling conclusions.  
  
"I see," the bastard said. "Very well, that brings us to the matter of you being armed."  
  
"If you want an apology, you won't get one. It was self defense."  
  
"You broke our trust by coming to the meeting armed!"  
  
"If all had gone well you would never have known. It was only a precaution, and apparently a necessary one in light of your screw-up!" John was sick and tired of having to defend his desire to stay alive.  
  
"Commander Crichton!" said Regie, ever the peacemaker.   
  
"It doesn't matter," John went on bitterly. "After we drop off your people, we'll be leaving anyway." There was no home left for him on Earth, that much was clear. Giller smiled, tight and cold, probably skippy-dancing in his head.   
  
"Leaving?" Henley however jolted upright in shock. "We were under the impression that you would stay."  
  
"You know what they say, assuming makes an ass out of you and me," John replied.   
  
"But you *can't* leave!! There's so much we can learn from you!" The woman was indignant. "I've been charged with offering you and the aliens a formal invitation on behalf of The IASA First Contact Commission to stay on Earth. We are prepared to take all security precautions, including a press ban to ensure your safety. We will not have a repeat of yesterday's incident, that's a guarantee!"  
  
"And cashing in the warranty might cost me my life," John retorted. Stay! That was insane. Moya's crew, if sometimes crazy, was not stupid.  
  
"But you can't leave after giving us an unexplained taste of a galaxy we will never see!" She looked ready to tear John apart, angrier than even Giller had been earlier at his blasphemy. "You come here bearing gifts only to take them away!?" her voice rose shrilly. "IASA is offering you a paid position, benefits. You'll be home with your family, working for the good of Humanity. 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!' That is you! You cannot turn away!" Her face was as red as her words were fierce. Knowledge: that's what she wanted, the keys to the universe.  
  
"I've had enough brain surgery for one lifetime, thanks," said John quietly. He felt distanced suddenly from Earth, as if he saw it through a tunnel. "Giller, if there's nothing else you want to shout about, we'll contact you within the next day or so about when we'll drop your people off."  
  
Mr. Giggles choked out a, "Very well," through clenched teeth, then Pilot broke the connection. John turned to Regie who's face was clean of all emotion.   
  
"At the meeting yesterday you mentioned a war," he said. "If you are leaving in two days, I would like you to brief me in as much detail as possible."   
  
John sighed and leaned back against the table. Knowledge about space technology, about wormholes, about the war that always loomed on the horizon. It was all the same.  
  
  
  
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D'argo stared at the scene before him in disbelief. Whoever's idea it was to let eight Humans loose in the secondary hangar was going to have to do some fast talking if he - and D'argo suspected either John or Filalla, who had taken a somewhat bizarre interest in Crichton's species - wanted to escape the Luxan's wrath. They were crawling all over the half destroyed transport pod like children, touching systems the crew was in the middle of carefully dismantling for spare parts. From this mess, it would take weekens to put everything back in order! And Medri was just letting the frelling Humans play, twirling a wrench as if watching a cycle's worth of work destroyed was nothing to get upset about.  
  
"Medri!" D'argo shouted across the hangar to get his attention. The spotted man jumped slightly, the wrench stilling in his hands. "Who the frell let them in here?"  
  
"Chiana. And they're just looking," Medri replied turning back to the Humans. "She's making sure they don't touch anything important."  
  
Looking over again, D'argo finally noticed the Nebari near the back landing leg talking with the man who'd attached himself to her earlier. Her surveillance seemed to be limited to the conversation. Making sure they didn't touch anything! Yeah, right! One glance at Medri and D'argo resisted the urge to knock him on the head. He was Chiana-watching again and to hezmana with everything else.   
  
"Medri!" he snapped again.  
  
"What?!" This time the spinning wrench didn't stop as the spotted man acknowledged him, annoyed.  
  
"Anything they mess up, you get to put back in order! I am not cleaning up after them."  
  
Medri waved an unconcerned hand at him and turned back to Chiana. Rolling his eyes at the younger man, D'argo left in disgust. It was like talking to a wall.  
  
  
  
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Aeryn grit her teeth against the pain, her headache getting worse with each jarring step she took. But with Jool beside her silently waiting for her to ask for help, she held it in as she'd been trained and worked through it. After arguing for the better part of an arn, there was no way she was going to eat her words. She'd frelling won and was going to make damn sure the whiny brat knew it. Though at the moment, Aeryn was beginning to wish she'd let herself be convinced otherwise. She stole a glance at the Interion who simply raised an eyebrow.  
  
Frell them! Aeryn glared at the DRD Pilot had insisted on and ignored the sheen of sweat she could feel on her brow. She was *not* going to be an invalid!  
  
In the distance, Aeryn heard the low hum of voices coming from her tier and sighed in relief. Almost there. One foot after another, that was all she had to do: ignore her throbbing head and shoulder and simply walk. She could do that, and if she couldn't she would die trying. From the pain, she was halfway there already.   
  
They had just turned down her tier, when the voices coming from the kids' room stopped and transformed themselves into the patter of feet. First Seth then Essor then Rhia burst into the hallway, breaking into a run when they saw her with happy cries. If Jool hadn't been there to steady her, they would have knocked her over. Aeryn let the babble of little voices wash over her as she regained her balance, a medicine of it's own kind that while good for her spirit wasn't as good for her headache.  
  
"Quietly, quietly," she patted heads, calming them.   
  
"Grandpa's spent the who'e day with us! Can you play with us too now?" Seth asked.  
  
"I think your Mom needs to rest now." Jack Crichton approached from the kids doorway, a thin book in his hands. "You shouldn't be up and about," he told Aeryn, throwing a disapproving glance at Jool.  
  
"Don't look at me. I tried, but she wouldn't listen," Jool said in her defense.  
  
"I'm not an invalid," said Aeryn, annoyed by their fussing. "I know my limits."  
  
"Right, death," Jool muttered. The ex-Peacekeeper glared at her.  
  
"Come on, let's get you to bed. Standing out here arguing is not helping matters any." Jack came up and put an arm around her waist, easily batting off her attempts to brush him away. "Stop. You're as pale as a ghost and you need rest. You should be taking better care of yourself," he admonished.   
  
So Aeryn let him help her to her room and onto the bed; the kids trailed behind with Jool who sighed in relief. When she was finally safely installed and given an I-told-you-so by Jool, the Interion left, leaving Aeryn alone with Jack and the children who'd gathered around her knees at their grandfather's insistence.  
  
"You really should be in the medical bay," he said again, his tone much like John's when she did something he disapproved of.  
  
"I prefer recuperating here," Aeryn replied, slightly defensive.  
  
"Will you read the story now?" Rhia asked Jack before he could reply to that. With a last lingering look at Aeryn, Jack nodded and accepted the small book Rhia held out to him. John had made it, along with fifty others over the years for the children. He'd written the stories in both English and the intergalactic script and illustrated them. The pages had been sewn together then bound with leather from old Peacekeeper uniforms.   
  
Aeryn closed her eyes as Jack began to read, recognizing the story as soon as she heard the first line. It was a favorite of the kids about a cargo hauler that had to pass through the edge of a gravity well to bring food and toys to a planet's children on the other side before morning. The poor cargo hauler isn't strong enough to make the journey, so the toys aboard contact three other haulers and ask them to take them through the gravity well. The first two refuse, but the third small one says it will try, and succeeds, repeating 'I think I can' as it passes through the well.  
  
"And as they flew into the planet-rise, the Little Hauler was heard to say, I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could," Jack finished, a slight smile on his lips. "You know, that was one of John's favorite stories when he was a boy," he told them, closing the book. "I can remember reading it to him every night for almost a year." Aeryn smiled. That sounded about right, she thought looking at her children.  
  
"Let's get another!" Rhia yelled, making Aeryn wince at the noise as they scampered off.  
  
"Do they have any Sebacean stories?" Jack asked when they were gone. Aeryn shook her head.   
  
"I grew up in a military barracks," she said by way of explanation. Her bedtime stories had been of battles and long dead Peacekeeper heroes who'd sacrificed their lives for the mission. They weren't stories she wanted to pass on to her children. "My childhood was very different. When Rhia was born, I didn't have the least idea how to be a parent."  
  
Jack smiled. "That's perfectly normal. I can remember feeling both overjoyed and terrified when John was born. But you learn fast. You and John have done a fine job. Whatever else, I'm very happy I've had this chance to meet you and my grandkids." Jack glanced towards the open door. He was different from the Ancients version Aeryn had met, older and more careworn, but at the same time he had more of a presence, more humanity. He was much like John - or rather John was like him.  
  
"I'm glad I've finally met you, too," Aeryn said. "John thinks very highly of you. Sometimes you were all he had to hold onto." Jack looked at her sharply, eyes searching hers. She held them, sensing the undercurrents she'd felt in John when he had come to see her earlier.  
  
A flurry of arms and legs tumbled into the room, arguing over three books they each wanted read and drawing both Jack and Aeryn's attention. "Hey now, we'll read them all," Jack said pulling Seth and Essor apart.  
  
"Mine first!" "No, *mine*!"  
  
"Let's go in the other room and decide," Jack stood and pushed them towards the door. "Your mom needs rest." Aeryn smiled and watched them go gratefully. At the door however, Jack paused. "Thank you," he said smiling warmly. Aeryn nodded, not sure what he was thanking her for.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 4: Return to Sender  
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"So what's the scoop?"   
  
Shannon looked up from her notes at Dave and Henry who were waiting by the van. The press conference had been called a day early and the two equipment men had been unluckily taking a coffee break from their vigil at Canaveral. "Big news," she said with a grin. "Tomorrow morning, Crichton is returning the kidnapped delegation."   
  
Finally something to work with! The only thing they'd had in the four days since the conference and subsequent shooting was the investigation and the influx of personnel on the Cape. The authorities weren't making very much progress. The descriptions and dental records hadn't turned up any terrorists or criminals and no groups had claimed responsibility. The police had broadcast the sketches the night before, hoping someone would recognize one of the would-be assassins, but so far nothing.  
  
It was actually the international and political press that was getting all the headlines as a result of the attack. Failed negotiations in Israel and Russia, and political tension making itself felt in the economic sector in Europe and Japan had sent out rumbles over the last couple of days.  
  
Shannon had done a short piece on local reactions but, all in all, it wasn't very exciting. The religious right was throwing a party and the pro-alieners were preparing for the Second Coming. But now, *finally*, something to sink her teeth into!  
  
"Camera's going in?" asked Dave.  
  
"No. That's the bad news. There's still a five hundred meter perimeter around the runway and all the meetings are closed to the media this time at Crichton's insistence." She waved the restricting document from the press packet. "Security. IASA is approving their archivists to do the video recording and they'll feed out the landing live. The rest we'll get at the press conference Saturday after the aliens leave again."  
  
"Crichton staying?"  
  
"IASA's offered him a position. I talked to Gary Wolfe but apparently they haven't gotten a definitive answer yet. We're going for drinks later so I'll find out what's happening then." Shannon shrugged out of her suit jacket and laid it over the front seat's open window.   
  
"He's considering *not* staying?" Henry asked, offering Shannon a cup of coffee.  
  
She accepted happily, turning and looking back at the IASA building complex. "Apparently. Makes for a good story, doesn't it?"   
  
  
  
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DK looked around the messy room in amazement. Four days and they had used up all of John's paper and moved on to the chips the crew used to store information with notes on anything and everything they could get their hands on. Now Tony was organizing their data for the ride home to make absolutely sure nothing got lost.  
  
"I still wish they would have let us take DNA samples of everyone," Dr. Amelia Hargrove commented joining DK and Jeremy where they were alphabetizing diagrams. "Especially the children. Just think, a successful crossbreeding of a Human with another species. I'd give anything to study them!"  
  
"You want to kidnap them and plug them into a computer?" DK asked sarcastically.  
  
Amelia waved a nonchalant hand. "Bad choice of words. I'd never run direct experiments on them, you know that. But a DNA or blood sample is not asking much. John Crichton gave us one when he landed."  
  
"But you're talking about his kids. It's not very surprising that he was against it," DK argued.   
  
"His kids, the only half-Humans in existence," Amelia retorted. "It's not an opportunity to pass up. Who knows what we could find in their genes that would benefit mankind: natural antibodies to cancer cells or AIDS. Anything."  
  
"Don't tell me you're not curious, DK," Jeremy said with a teasing smile. "You have to admit it's pretty cool."  
  
DK shrugged. He could see the logic of Amelia's argument: taking a blood sample wasn't anything a regular checkup wouldn't do. And he was curious, he admitted a tad guiltily. "John seems pretty touchy on the issue."  
  
"Touchy like a hair-trigger," Jeremy snorted. "He bit my head off when we brought it up. And all I asked for was a DNA sample, no tests or experiments or anything. Said he'd kill the first person who touched them." Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. "You know, DK, I don't know about him anymore. Threats and violence? That's not John. I'm actually uncomfortable around him now and we used to be great friends."  
  
DK had felt it too, that distance of two lives gone in different directions. The few conversations he'd had with John had turned flat and ended in a heavy silence after they had exhausted the small talk. Neither one of them knew how to take the first leap beyond the what's-happened-to-who-in-the-last-ten-years. John was unwilling to talk about his life, and for his part DK didn't want to talk about his. How did he tell John he'd quit IASA after the investigation to live off squat for a year and a half? That at the time, he'd blamed John?  
  
"So are you and Colonel Crichton really staying for a few extra days?" Amelia changed the uncomfortable subject.  
  
"Yep," DK nodded. He hadn't expected the offer but he certainly wasn't about to turn it down. With fewer distractions, he and John would be able to talk and hopefully find their footing again. "Jack was thrilled to have more time with his grandchildren, and I figure I can keep researching the technology up here. Figure out that hetch drive," he added with a wry smile. It had become a running joke that even after ten explanations, they were no closer to understanding the damn thing than they had been on Earth. But then, DK reflected, thinking of that awkward moment when John had asked him to stay, that was true of everything up here.  
  
  
  
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Ryan wasn't sure if this had been a good idea after all. The tension between John and Melanie was palpable as they faced off, each one sizing the other up. Part of him was still amazed his wife had agreed to come to the meeting at all given that since his arrival, she'd completely ignored her brother's existence. But here they were: tongue-tied and with matching unreadable expressions.   
  
"Hi," John finally said awkwardly. Melanie didn't answer, preferring instead to simply glare. "How are you?" John pushed forward.  
  
Melanie stared a moment longer then shook her head. "This was a mistake," she said turning for her purse that was lying on the couch. "I don't know why I came." She started for the door, but John caught her arm. Mel shook his hand off as if she'd been burned.  
  
"That's it?" he demanded. "You were just going to say 'hi' and leave?"   
  
"What else is there to say, John? 'Hi, how are? How's life been while I was *dead*?!"  
  
"How 'bout I'm glad to see you?"  
  
"Oh, because that would solve all our problems now wouldn't it! Don't expect me to worship the goddamned ground you walk on with the rest of the world," Melanie bit back caustically.  
  
John looked at the ceiling briefly. "Great. I haven't seen you in ten cycles and already I've pissed you off. What could I have possibly done?"  
  
"What do you think?!" Melanie shoved him back a step, her voice rising in anger. "You *died*. You went up in your little spaceship and didn't even say goodbye! 'Don't worry, Mel, I've been in space before. We'll go out for Mexican when I get back!' Well guess what, you never *came back*!"  
  
"I'm here now."  
  
"You arrogant asshole! You come back from the dead and think everything will go back to normal! Well it doesn't! We buried a goddammned box with your name on it! What gives you the fucking right to be alive again?!"  
  
Her words lingered in the air, as she and John stared at each other, their hard expressions mirror images of stubborn anger. Finally, John said softly, "I didn't die."  
  
"You died for me, you bastard! You died for me and Lisa and Dad and every fucking person on this planet!"  
  
"And I can't change that! I can't frelling change what happened! What else do you want from me?!" John gestured in frustration with his hands.  
  
"I wanted you to be there, goddammit!!" Melanie's voice cracked. "You were supposed to be there for my wedding, when Steven started drinking, when my kids were born, for Lisa's... You were supposed to be there!!" Angry tears pooled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks, but she ignored them. "You were supposed to be there but you weren't! Just like you weren't there for Mom!" She spat the words like poison, and John flinched as if he'd been slapped. "It would have been better if you'd just stayed dead!"  
  
Roughly, Melanie wiped her tears away and pushed past John for the door, slamming it behind. In the sudden silence, John remained where he was, still as a statue, staring at the floor where Melanie had stood. Ryan looked over at Lisa who was as stunned as he.  
  
"John?" she asked tentatively.  
  
He looked up at them, eyes blank and obviously on other things. His lips twisted into the semblance of a smile for a brief second. "I hate coming back from the dead," he said, then turned and strode out the door, leaving them to wonder what he meant.  
  
  
  
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"In conclusion, it's a violent, total war out there. You saw some of the images Crichton gave me... unspeakable horrors that rival our worst. I don't know whether, even with Crichton's help, we would ever be prepared for a spatial attack. The good news is that we are really far out, and it's unlikely that the Scarrans, Peacekeepers, or Nebari will come here in the near future," said Ambassador Reginard. "I'll have all the details typed up as soon as possible for you."  
  
"It can wait till tomorrow," Landers told him. He was at the debriefing unofficially as it was, and the poor man looked beat. Small wonder after his four day crash course in intergalactic politics, his express flight to Washington that morning, not to mention the stress of the attack and consequent space walk. Landers could only imagine what it was like, but he doubted he even came close.   
  
Reaching into his pocket, the president pulled out his bottle of Excedrin. "Catch," he tossed it to Reginard who stared at it a second before opening the bottle and taking two of the white pills. Modern medicine at it's greatest, thought Landers, as the ambassador returned the bottle.  
  
"So what kind of technology are we looking at?" he asked. "Weapons and defenses?"  
  
Reginard shook his head. "You'll have to ask your IASA liaison about the technology the scientists gathered. However, Crichton's head is a storehouse of information, and from what I saw on Moya, he's very good at adapting what he knows to serve his purposes. The original Farscape Module he built here on Earth for his experiment has been completely changed to meet the fuel and speed requirements of the other galaxy. It's amazing what he's done with it."  
  
"So if we want to be able to defend ourselves, we need him on the payroll," Secretary of State Clermont clarified.  
  
"If we want it done well and efficiently, I'd say so, yes," Reginard nodded. "Nothing makes up for practical experience. But as I said, I don't think we'll even be discovered soon."  
  
That was the only positive thing in this whole mess, Landers thought. But whoever said they would simply use the technology against space invaders who'd most likely never come. With negotiations in the Middle East stalled, the cease fire in Kashmir rekindled, and mixed messages showing up on the CIA's radar, the US needed more than global good will to make up for what the blunder in security had cost them.  
  
"I understand IASA has offered Crichton a job?"  
  
"Yes, sir," answered Clermont. "Five hundred thousand a year to him and any alien that will stay."  
  
"Are any of them likely to?" Landers asked.   
  
"Crichton himself didn't seem too keen on the idea," Reginard replied.  
  
"Then we'll make him an additional offer he can't refuse," said Landers. He wasn't about to let a resource like Crichton go if he could help it. The man was going to help clean up the mess he made whether he wanted to or not. "I want it done by tonight." Landers' cell phone rang as Clermont made the note. Checking the number, it was Lewis.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. President," his aide began, "but you wanted to know as soon as the investigation in Florida had anything."  
  
"Yes. What is it?" Landers stood and retreated to the corner for privacy.  
  
"The sentry that let the attackers through was bribed. Fifty thousand dollars in cash," Lewis reported. "The FBI is trying to trace it now."  
  
Landers let out a slow breath, not liking the implications. A sum like that wasn't inconsiderable for a lowly National Guardsman. "I want to know as soon as they find out who's money it is."  
  
"Richard's already standing by," said Lewis. "I'm meeting a friend for lunch so I'll be back at the office by 1:30 if that's all right."  
  
"Take all the time you need. I'll see you then." Landers hung up. If Lewis was ferreting him out more information, he could have the week.  
  
  
  
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The mood in the center chamber was the most relaxed Jack had seen it since he had come aboard. Apart from Aeryn who was with the children, and John and D'argo who were on the planet, the entire crew was eating together for the first time. The elusive Rygel had even shown up, the alien Jack had seen maybe three times, bearing with dignity - and cutting comebacks of his own - the others' teasing. The food was still the same, but the preparation a little more creative changing the taste somewhat. Around the table, conversation hummed back and forth.  
  
"I'm just glad the Humans are finally gone," Medri sighed.  
  
"I thought you liked them," Emmerit looked curiously at the spotted man.  
  
"I did," his eyes flickered across to Jack and DK, "but so many of them at once got stressful."  
  
"I liked them," commented Chiana to no one in particular.  
  
"We *know* that." Fillala threw a piece of vegetable at her with a teasing grin. " 'Chiana, what's this called?'" he said in a high falsetto.  
  
" 'Chiana, will you show me how this works?'" Emmerit joined in.  
  
"Frell you!" the Nebari returned.  
  
" 'Chiana, can you scratch my back?'"  
  
"Hey, that's enough," Medri interrupted, smiling himself. But Jack noticed that his shoulders were tense. Of course, Jack didn't know the guy all that well. For all he knew it could be normal. He'd spent most of his time with his grandkids and Aeryn and consequently, aside from Jool, didn't know the others at all. He wanted to though, because by getting to know them, he got a glimpse into his son's universe. Maybe if he understood where John had been, they could heal the schism between them.   
  
  
  
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Chapter 5: Wondering Weather   
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All was quiet. The children were finally clean and asleep below with Speckles and Stipes standing guard. Most of the crew had retreated to their quarters to get some sleep before tomorrow crashed down upon them. On the Terrace, John sat alone against the wall staring off into space. He'd been there since he and D'argo had returned, Aeryn knew, wanting at the time to be alone. She watched him from the doorway, unnoticed for the moment, noting the grim expression that told her he was lost in thought.  
  
"Hey."  
  
John turned at the sound of her voice, a tired but genuine smile lighting up his face as she approached. "Hey," he replied softly, making a spot for her in front of him. Aeryn settled in, careful of her shoulder; John lightly wrapped his arms around her like a warm blanket, pulling her close. "You doing all right?" he asked, rubbing his cheek against hers.  
  
"Mmm. I was going to ask you the same question," Aeryn replied. She felt his chest rise and fall against her back. Outside, the stars shone brilliantly. To one side was Earth, huge and beautiful and, from this distance close enough to touch.  
  
"They want me to stay," John said finally.  
  
"Who does?"  
  
"Everyone: IASA, the government, my father..." he trailed off. In the quiet, Aeryn reflexively glanced at the planet. "They made me some offers, 'for the good of mankind' and all that crap. Oursler even shook my hand before we left, asking me to stay."  
  
"And what do you want?" she asked.  
  
"I've told you before, Aeryn, I'll choose you over Earth."  
  
"But what do *you* want?" she repeated. Earth was more than just another planet; it was his home, the place he was born. He had ties there that were stronger than he maybe cared to admit sometimes, but that were there nonetheless.  
  
John sighed, his arms tightening slightly and his breath tickling her skin. "I don't know," he said. "If I went back for good, it'd be a zoo. Even with agreements and precautions, there'd be the media to deal with, men in black to avoid, more attacks maybe. And with you and the kids it'd be even worse. I don't want to put you in that kind of danger."  
  
"Life on Moya is no safer. Every time we take on refugees or meet an armed ship..." Aeryn trailed off. "Remember when I first became pregnant, we wanted to find a planet to settle down on? Maybe this is our chance."  
  
"You're saying you want to stay on Earth?" Disbelief colored John's voice.  
  
Aeryn smiled, surprised a little by her own words. "I don't know. I don't trust the Humans any more than I did before, but listening to your father tell Rhia and Seth stories about you and your sisters when you were young...maybe we can work around the problems and give them that."  
  
"A childhood?"  
  
"Peace."  
  
They fell silent, each contemplating the other's words. Aeryn thought back over the meetings on Earth. Warmly, almost suffocatingly welcomed and almost cleanly away. She and five others wounded, only one with serious complications; they were lucky to be alive. This was usually John's type of suggestion, she realized suddenly, the suicidal one. Thinking of it that way, Aeryn wondered whether it was worth the risk. The Uncharted Territories, it was true, had become even more dangerous since the war, but they knew the terrain, and on Moya they even had a degree of control. The only one who knew Earth was John, and recent events had shown that even for him the rules had changed.  
  
Around them, the light dimmed bit by bit, then was gone as Moya passed into the Earth's shadow. The stars sharpened and clarified now that they didn't have to compete with the sun's light.  
  
"I saw Melanie this morning," John said suddenly. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "She wasn't happy to see me. Hates me for dying."  
  
"And Lisa?"  
  
"Lisa's Lisa. She takes what she can get and is grateful for it. Melanie can hate you forever."  
  
"Sometimes it's easier to hate than to forgive," said Aeryn. Behind her John remained silent.  
  
After a moment, he asked, "So what should we do?"  
  
It was Aeryn's turn to sigh, but carefully. Hidden by the shadows and wrapped in John's arms, this was where Aeryn wanted to stay, in this moment. But life never gave them easy choices. "I don't know, John. I don't know."  
  
  
  
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From the look on D'argo's face, he was crazy for even suggesting it. Under normal circumstances, John took that as a good sign, but in this situation he wasn't sure that it was.  
  
"You're not," D'argo asked for verification.  
  
"We don't know." John bit his lip, waiting for the hyper-rage. He wasn't disappointed.  
  
"How can you even consider staying on Earth?! You'll be locked in a cell before you even get off the transport pod!" D'argo shouted, angry but thankfully not lost to it.  
  
"We'd make sure it's safe," John told him, trying to reason, but it didn't work.  
  
"Safe? The meeting was supposed to be safe, John! Look what happened! You can't trust Humans!"  
  
"Can't trust me!" John retorted, getting a little angry himself. He knew it was his misplaced trust that had gotten Aeryn shot. He kept kicking himself in the head about it enough as it was.  
  
"You're different!" D'argo pointed a finger at him. "I trust you even when I know I shouldn't! But this time, I'm locking you up before you get yourself hurt!"  
  
"You know, all I wanted was your opinion."  
  
"You are frelling insane!"  
  
"It's Earth! My home planet! You once told me I'd regret it if I never went back!"  
  
"You went back. They tried to kill you. I think that's a pretty clear indication that it's not safe for you down there!"  
  
"People try to kill me all the time, D'argo! What makes this any different?!"  
  
"Arrrgggg!" the Luxan growled in frustration, turning away and kicking the wall. Better it than him, John thought. "What did Aeryn say?" D'argo demanded after he'd vented.  
  
"She didn't say no." John rubbed his eyes, a headache pounding against his forehead. D'argo stared at him in silence for several microts.  
  
"John," he finally said. The astronaut looked up with a sigh, hands resting on his hips. The Luxan fixed him with a stern look. "You and Aeryn are my best friends. I'd give my life for you and your children, and I'll respect the decision you make - even if that means tongue-ing you and locking you in a cell until we starburst the frell away, so I can respect it with a clear conscious!" Ultimatum given, the warrior stormed off, leaving John in a vacuum of silence.  
  
All things considered, he thought, it had gone pretty well. But D'argo was right, he was insane for even considering it. How could he go back now? How could he expose the children to that kind of danger? Better to just forget about it.  
  
"That is one being I would not want pissed off at me." John looked up just as DK walked in. "He looked ready to kill something."  
  
John snorted. "If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it." DK nodded in sympathy, taking the fact as exaggeration.  
  
"So why's he mad at you?" he asked, making himself comfortable in the closest chair.  
  
John considered how much to tell him, then told himself not to be stupid. This was DK. They'd been closer than brothers; he shouldn't be worrying about offending him like some stranger. "He's mad because Aeryn and I are thinking 'bout staying on Earth."  
  
"But that's wonderful!" DK's face lit up. "Shouldn't he be happy for you?"  
  
"In D'argo's book, staying on Earth is tantamount to suicide," John told him. "And I'm not sure he's wrong."  
  
DK opened his mouth no doubt to protest, but shut it again. "Yeah, I guess I could see that," he said.  
  
"Yeah," John agreed, sitting down himself.   
  
"But that's not going to stop you is it?"  
  
"We don't even know who was behind the attack, DK. What if it was the government? And there's more to it than that."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
John didn't even know where to begin with that one. "It's complicated."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"DK -"  
  
"Goddammit, explain it to me," DK suddenly snapped. "Jesus, John, you've spent the last five days avoiding me. We haven't had a real conversation since you've been back. Every time I even get close to asking about what happened to you, you change the subject or give me some vague bullshit! What is with you? Why did you even ask me to stay if you don't want to talk?!" DK looked at him, brow furrowed waiting for an answer. He too had changed since John had last seen him. "I'm your friend, John," he went on when John didn't say anything. "I may not understand or like some of the things you do, but I love you no matter what. You can *talk* to me and I won't turn away like D'argo there."  
  
John looked down, feeling guilty for doubting DK. Why had he asked him to stay? To try and find what they had lost? He wanted to tell DK but at the same time was terrified by the idea. How could John explain his life in the Uncharted Territories, the Ancients recreation, Scorpius, Harvey, the Farders' experiment? Talking of those things was difficult even with those who'd been there. How could he expect DK to understand? How could he explain how far he'd fallen without losing his friend?  
  
But he had to try or it looked like he'd lose him anyway. He had asked him to stay, he couldn't back out now.  
"I don't know where to start," he confessed, meeting DK's eyes.  
  
"Start with why you're afraid to come home."  
  
The most complicated question of them all. Where did he even begin? "I've had some bad experiences with coming home scenarios," John finally said. "In one I was locked up. When the others came after me their lives were forfeit in the name of science. I can't let that happen, DK."  
  
"But it won't happen," DK said earnestly. "Where did you get theses scenarios from?"  
  
John rubbed his lip uncomfortably. "The Ancients and Farders made them from my memories." DK's eyes widened.  
  
"How did they do that?"  
  
"I dunno, but it reminded me of what Humans are capable of."  
  
"But how could they get in your head?" DK asked again. John couldn't believe it! He was stuck on the science, completely missing the point. "No, really," said DK upon seeing his expression. "How did they get in your head? How do you know it really came from you, that they weren't just making it up?"  
  
"Because every face was a familiar face!" John snapped. "That's how I figured out their game after I thought even my Dad had betrayed me!" DK looked taken aback. "The second time everything kept getting more insane; with the Farders I got to watch the Humans torture my friends. I didn't even know if it was all in my head or only the Humans who weren't real."  
  
"But it's still not real. Just because there's the possibility doesn't mean that's what will happen." DK leaned forward resting his arms on his knees.  
  
John regarded him. Underneath that graying hair was still the same bright eyed scientist John had always known, believing the best of everybody. "Doesn't mean it won't either."  
  
"Is the glass half full or half empty?" DK asked, exasperated.  
  
"You don't get it, DK," John brushed aside the question. "I don't have trust to spare, not when Aeryn and the kids' lives depend on it. D'argo was right. It was a crazy idea!" He stood and started to pace.  
  
"We're Human, John. We learn from our mistakes."  
  
"So have I." And the price he'd paid for some of those lessons had been too high. "Look, DK, I know you mean well, but after the attack, what reason do I have to trust Earth?"  
  
DK stared at him a long time until finally he too sighed and stood up. "I dunno," he said, "but with all the shit going on right now in the world, I think maybe *we need* to be trusted to do something right for once." That said, he left.  
  
John stared at the wall, thinking. Before the Ancients he would have gone back without a second thought, but now... he'd been burned one to many times. And with his family on Earth either hating him or disappointed in him, John didn't think it was even worth it.  
  
  
  
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Medri stared at the walls of his quarters without seeing them, trying to figure out what was going on with Chiana. She hadn't stayed tonight, hadn't in fact since before the Humans had come on board. They hadn't even really talked to each other - there hadn't been a *them.* The more he thought about the last five days, the more he saw Chiana and her pet Human together in his mind. At mealtime, in the cargo hold, in the maintenance bay. *They* had been inseparable.  
  
Chiana and the Human. No, she wouldn't, Medri scoffed at the idea, but...she had been flirting. He'd seen her flirt before, of course - it had saved their lives on more than one occasion. But here on Moya, she didn't need too. Yet she had been flirting with the Human. A lot. Medri buried his face in his hands, worry clenching his stomach. What if...no...but... He just didn't know anymore.   
  
At mealtime, in the cargo hold, in the maintenance bay. In the maintenance bay they'd been standing so close together, so close. But that had been the cramped conditions, he told himself. If they were four times as big, a tiny voice piped up. But they hadn't done anything. There.  
  
Medri got up and began to pace off the nervous energy. He had to know. He didn't think she had slept with the Human, she wouldn't do that to Medri. But she had stopped talking to him. She had never done that before. Except after Kyrek... And what the others had said...  
  
Before he knew he had even decided, Medri was out the door and on his way to Chiana's quarters. He had to know. He had to ask. It was ripping him up inside.  
  
Chiana wasn't in her quarters, or in the center chamber. Medri thought about asking Pilot, but decided against it, not wanting everyone to know. Was she hiding from him? Ashamed? Did she not want anything to do with him now? Where was Chiana? Every mircrot that passed made him worry more, like a ratchet grip tightening over his heart. She wasn't in command either. She didn't go down to the planet, did she?  
  
"Whoa!" In his haste Medri rounded a corner right into Filalla. The three legged man grabbed onto him to keep his balance. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"Nothing." Medri tried to move on in his search, but Fil's grip turned to steel.  
  
"You're frelling golden, you mentir! What's wrong?!"  
  
"Nothing!" Medri shoved him back, twisting out of the handhold at the same time. Nothing was *wrong,* he just had to know. Had to know what had gone on between her and that Human. He took off down the corridor, barely aware of where he was headed. Behind him he heard Filalla call out to Pilot, but then he was through the next door.  
  
Medri found Chiana in the cargo bay with Rygel. *Alone* with Rygel, part of him noted darkly, while the other hoped he was wrong.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Rygel asked when he came in, but Medri ignored him.  
  
"Chiana, I'm sorry but I have to know," he locked eyes with the surprised Nebari. "Did you...do anything with him?"  
  
"What?"   
  
"Your Human. Did you do sleep with him?!" Medri repeated impatiently.  
  
"What? No," said Chiana. She laughed shortly, surprised by the question "Why would I sleep with him? I only guided him around Moya and answered his questions."  
  
"You spent the whole time with him!" Was she telling the truth? There was something different about her voice, wasn't there? Her eyes darted to Rygel like she was hiding something from him.   
  
"So?"  
  
"You did." He was sure of it now.  
  
"No!" Chiana said strongly - too strongly. Medri felt his heart break like a knife slicing through him, anger rushing in to fill the vacuum.  
  
"You did. How could you!" he shouted.  
  
"I didn't do anything with him," she denied again.   
  
" 'You answered his questions.' 'Scratched his back.' I may have missed it then, but I see it now!" Medri snapped. Hurt, betrayed, angry. "You frelling slept with him!"  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"Then what were those smiles for? Taking him to see the damaged pod? I should have forbidden you to talk to him after that!"  
  
"I'd like to have seen you try! We're not on your planet, Medri! I do not belong to you! *No one* orders me around!"  
  
"Maybe someone should, to keep you from spreading your legs for anyone that asks!"  
  
"And that would be you?!"  
  
"Does three cycles together mean nothing? I'm just another conquest to be cast aside?! Do you sleep with Rygel and Filalla when you get tired of me?! How many have there been?!"  
  
"None! But I wish there had!" Chiana yelled in fury. "You want to chain me to your bed and be your sex slave! Well, maybe I'm sick of it! Always checking on who I talk to or even smile at. I can't do *anything* without *you* in my frelling face. You call us *family*! Were not! Frelling me does not make me your wife!"  
  
"So what does it make you?" Medri shouted back. "A slut free to jump ship whenever you want?"  
  
"It makes me free of you! If you don't trust me, then stay away from me and stay away from Essor!"  
  
The words hit Medri like a fist. "Stay away from him?! I'm the closest thing to a father he has!"  
  
"But he's my son and your nothing but an exiled chauvinist who can't stand seeing a free woman! If you think every time I talk to another male means something, I don't want anything more to do with you!"   
  
Nothing more to do with him! Medri felt like he'd been shot all over. When had this happened? She hated him! Blinded by fury, Medri lashed out at her. He didn't remember much after that: rage, pain, terrible words of hate and anger like blasts to his heart. Shouts as the rest of the crew ran in, hands grabbing to pull them apart. Scratches, kicks, and finally, after a blow to the throat, blackness.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 6: Here's Looking At You, Kid  
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"It was amazing," said Peter. "The ship is actually alive, as in aware. The DRD's let her see and hear what's going on and she communicates through Pilot. We didn't get to meet him personally, only through a hologram."  
  
Dan shook his head and took a sip of coffee. If he didn't know Peter or hadn't seen some of the sketches they had brought back, he would have called him a liar. He wished he could have gone up with them, even at the risk of being shot. A living ship! That hadn't been in the tapes.  
  
"What were the aliens like?" asked Yora leaning in.  
  
Peter shrugged. "Most of them ignored us as much as they could. Filalla, the one with three legs, the gray woman Chiana, and this tall fellow that's green with yellow spots were the ones that showed us around and told us about the ship. They didn't think we were that bright," he chuckled.  
  
"I wish I could have been there!" said Yora.  
  
"And DK's still up there, lucky bastard," said Dan. Some people just got it all. "Did John tell you what it's like out there?"  
  
"No. He spent most of his time with Mr. Reginard, the State Department guy. From what I gathered, there's a conflict brewing out in the galaxy John was in, and they're worried about the bad guys coming to Earth. But from what Tyler told me, the threat's minimal."  
  
"Who's Tyler?"  
  
"The Canadian ambassador. He was in pretty bad shape after the attack and everything so Tony had him stick close to me for the first night," said Peter.  
  
"Even so, it must be incredible out there. What I wouldn't give to have that chance." Dan shook his head again and finished off his cup. To discover new planets and new races, that's what Dan wanted to do, go beyond the horizon just to see what was out there. John was incredibly blessed to have had that chance.  
  
  
  
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DK was in his room filling in his notes when John rapped on the open door. His old buddy looked the worse for wear with scratch marks on his arms and a bruise forming on his wrist.  
  
"Hey. What happened to you?" asked DK. "You look like that time you got beaten up by half the basketball team in high school."  
  
John smiled and looked down at himself. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "George Parks has nothing on Chiana though," the smile sharpened into a grin DK couldn't help but return.  
  
"Chiana did that? What happened?"  
  
"She and Medri had a fight then tried to kill each other," John told him. "Chiana said it's over between them so we're gonna break out the fire water for Medri. You wanna come?"  
  
Surprised by the invitation, DK's first reaction was to say no. He'd stopped heavy drinking a long time ago. Besides, he didn't know Medri or the others that well. "No, you guys go ahead," he said. "I don't want to intrude."  
  
"Come on, DK. You wouldn't be intruding. Please." And something in John's tone made him stop and look at what was really being offered. So DK nodded and followed his friend to the center chamber where the male crew was sitting around the table. No one commented on his arrival, D'argo simply handed him a cup along with John and poured the alcohol.   
  
It was a subdued group. Medri sat slumped over the table with his head in his hands, his yellow dreadlocks hiding his face from the rest of them. Some of his spots were more green than yellow from what DK assumed were bruises. When D'argo tried to pass him a cup, he shrugged away, acquiescing only when the Luxan forced a hand to take it.  
  
"You get the first toast," D'argo said setting down the jug. "Trust me, you'll feel better once you're drunk."  
  
Medri shot him a querulous glare, looking like any other guy with a broken heart. "Yeah right! I'll never feel better!" he spat out morosely.  
  
"Nope, probably not," John agreed amicably. "Now what are we drinking to?"  
  
Swollen eyes regarded him for a second, before the spotted man finally lifted his cup. "To love. In the end, it never means anything."  
  
"To love," the others echoed and drank, DK with them. It wasn't very good, tasting like cheap wine mixed with grapefruit, but it had enough kick to serve its purpose he supposed. Across from him, Filalla licked his lips in satisfaction.  
  
"We should do this more often," he said.  
  
"At Chiana's rate we ought to be able to," Rygel noted.  
  
"To Chiana," D'argo raised his cup for the second toast, "who has broken yet another heart."  
  
"To Chiana!"  
  
"I don't know what happened!" Medri moaned after they drank. "Everything was fine between us until we came here! Then she hates me and I don't know what I did. It's not fair."  
  
"Hate to break it to you, Spots, but life ain't fair," said John. "And love least of all."  
  
"And you would know," Medri retorted sarcastically, shooting him a glare. "You and Aeryn fight *all* the time!"  
  
John actually laughed at that. "In the beginning that's all we did. She was pretty messed up when it came to emotions." He raised his cup. "To Aeryn Sun, the most complicated, frelled up woman I've ever known!"  
  
"To Aeryn!"   
  
"But it never could have been this bad!" Medri's head fell into his hands again. "How could she do it? Spend all that time with the frelling little Human then say it's all my fault?!"   
  
"That, my friend, is Chiana for you," said D'argo. He took the jug and refilled everyone's mug. "When she feels trapped, she kicks out as hard as she can."  
  
"Complicated creature is the female," Filalla said to no one in particular.  
  
Then the commiserating began about the fickleness of women and their incomprehensible ways. Other break up stories were shared and toasted. D'argo spoke of a girl from his youth and his own affair with Chiana, Rygel his one true love that had been forbidden him by his parents. John told of when Alex left him for the job at Stanford, Filalla of the women he'd left for his work as a trader.   
  
DK listened, getting a comfortable buzz. They weren't really all that different from a group of guys on Earth consoling a heart-broken friend. They'd all loved and lost at one point or another. As the night wore on, DK found himself telling them about Jennifer, his last girlfriend who had told him he was gay before throwing a wooden statue at him.   
  
"Hey, D'argo tell 'em abou' Stanz," called John when he'd finished. After about ten drinks, the group was becoming more drunk than sober.  
  
D'argo shook his head in a shiver.  
  
"Stanz is a Zenetian that had the hots for D there," John began with a happy grin when D'argo remained silent. "Kept making passes, trying to get him to fly off with him into the sunset. D'argo had no clue. Turned out that Stanz was female and D'argo didn't even know it! His one true love, lost forever!" John crooned over their laughter. "To Stanz!"  
  
"To Stanz!" They drank, the laughter dying down.   
  
"Y'know," said Medri, his words slurring together, "I though' Chi was my one t'ue love. But now she's gone. Gone, gone, gone." He peered into his cup. "You don't know what that's like!" he suddenly sobbed. Two teardrops splashed onto the table. They rest were silent under the new, somber mood. Filalla laid a hand on his friend's back.  
  
"I los' Lolhaan, my wife," said D'argo after a moment. "She was murdered by her own brother 'cause she married me. She was Sebacean and Macton couldn't stand the thought of her contaminating the species. He's dead now," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"My wife died in childbirth." Filalla lifted his cup and drained off the rest of his drink. He stared at it for a minute before continuing. "I lost both her and my son. She was so beautiful."  
  
"I lost Aeryn once," John said next. "I killed her." That didn't make any sense, thought DK, but John didn't say anymore, simply held out his cup for D'argo to refill. "To those we've lost forever," he said.  
  
"Lolhaan and Jothee."  
  
"Silla."  
  
"Anise," Medri added. "My sister."  
  
"Danallal and Muilli, my crew," Filalla added.  
  
"Gilina," said John.  
  
"Edinnal." They all stilled at D'argo's quiet addition.  
  
"Stark."  
  
"Zhaan," said Rygel. John and D'argo both looked at the small alien solemnly.   
  
There was silence. "To those we've lost," John repeated softly. There were tears in his eyes.  
  
As they drank, DK wondered through the mist in his head who all these people were that evoked such respect. He didn't dare ask; the spell was too heavy to lift now. All he could do was drink in their honor. Alcohol was a good thing he decided. The revelation deserved another drink.  
  
Things became less coherent after that. DK found it harder and harder to focus on faces and voices, the alien sounds he was now accustomed to understanding became alien again the more he drank. He didn't know how long they sat around the table or notice when they started singing. Everyone, it seemed had a bar song to teach the others, and they were actually pretty good, DK thought, as good as any symphony on Earth in fact. They were a great bunch of guys. Really nice, even D'argo who kept slapping him on the back and telling him to sing louder. His voice hurt. And he needed to stop drinking, but one more cupful wouldn't hurt.   
  
The taste of grapefruit was the last thing DK remembered before passing out.  
  
  
  
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It was late when Jack woke up the next morning. The noise from the center chamber had been just loud enough to keep him awake for most of the night. He'd   
asked Aeryn about it the evening before, but she had only shrugged and said they needed to get smashed, before she had gone to find Chiana. Jack didn't really know what was going on, hell, he hadn't even known Chiana was with Medri till after the fight. Coming to Earth had apparently caused more than one rift on the ship.  
  
With a sigh, Jack got up. It was pointless to try and sleep anymore, he was too awake now. What he needed was a cup of coffee, something he couldn't get on Moya. He almost wished they'd go home soon. He was getting too old to go traipsing around on a second's notice.   
  
The center chamber was quiet, empty except for Jool and surprisingly John. They were talking quietly over steaming bowls and didn't notice at first when he came in. Giving them space, Jack went over to the fridge to see what was new for breakfast. That was another thing he missed: variety. He was getting sick of the vegetables they'd been eating for the last week.  
  
"Good morning," said John when he joined them at the table. He had bags under his eyes and definitely looked paler than usual.  
  
"Morning," Jack returned. "I'm surprised to see you up after last night."  
  
"Jool's miracle hangover cure," his son picked up his bowl with both hands and took a sip. "Hot tea. Doesn't really work."  
  
"It does if you drink it before you go to sleep. Or you could not drink all night like a barbarian," Jool replied archly, standing. She took her bowl to the basin.  
  
Jack smiled. "Sound advice," he said.  
  
"Too late now," muttered John.  
  
Ignoring his grumbling, Jack poured himself a mug of hot water from the pitcher on the table and sprinkled in tea herbs from the box beside it. John grimaced when he opened the tin. "So why aren't you in bed sleeping it off if the hangover cure's not working?" Jack asked.  
  
"It's louder in our quarters," John told him dryly. "Besides I couldn't go back to sleep once I woke up."  
  
"Crichton," Pilot's image appeared on the hologram clamshell. John flinched again from the sudden noise. "The planet has responded to your call."  
  
"I'll be right there Pilot." John stood with his tea bowl. "Time to face the firing squad," he said with a sigh. "I'll be back soon, Dad."  
  
John left, followed soon after by Jool, leaving Jack alone with his tea and wondering what John wanted to talk to Earth about. He was tempted to go after him, but no, he was too old to go chasing him around the ship. He'd ask John later when he came back.   
  
Jack gazed out the window at the stars twinkling in the distance. He never imagined he'd be back in space again. He'd never imagined either that his son had survived all these years. Possibility, faith. Maybe it all meant something after all.  
  
  
  
  
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Reginard looked at his office in despair. It was an absolute wreck. His inbox was overflowing from the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated in the time he had been gone. It was almost November now, he suddenly realized. The time since Moya returned on the 4th had gone by in the blink of an eye.  
  
He sighed and set his briefcase down on the desk. He needed to pick up Halloween candy on the way home. Find out if Debra would talk to him after he took off like that for Florida. So much to do, so little time. His brief stay on Moya already felt like years ago.   
  
He opened his briefcase and took out his planner; it was filled with meetings for the rest of the week. Secretary Clermont, the Defense Department, and the National Security Council just for starters. It would probably just get worse when IASA started sending in the technological information.  
  
A mid-level diplomat suddenly jumped up to Ambassador Extraordinaire because of one throwaway assignment. Funny how life turned out. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd be personally briefing the president, he would have laughed and said they were out of their minds. Probably what Crichton would have said about what happened to him, he thought. Now there was an interesting man. At times dark and closed off, at others funny and amiable. He'd never talked directly about what had happened to him over the years but from his explanations of the Scarran-Peacekeeper conflict, Reginard got the feeling he'd seen a lot of it personally.  
  
The phone rang and Reginard answered tiredly. "Yes?"  
  
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Reginard, but Mr. Gamges is on line one," his secretary informed him.  
  
"Thank you," Reginard told her before switching lines. Morning phone calls from his boss, what was next? "Reginard, here."   
  
"Thomas, glad you're there. How's your first day back been?"  
  
"Fine, sir. I have a lot of work to catch up on."  
  
"Yes, well, you might not get that chance," Gamges sounded more pleased than he should have been. "This morning," his boss continued, "Crichton contacted Canaveral announcing his intention to stay on Earth."   
  
Oh. The news surprised Reginard. The last time he'd spoken to Crichton, he'd been dead set against the idea.   
  
"Since you are a member of the First Contact Team," Gamges said cheerfully, "Clermont wants you down there. You have the right to say 'no,' of course," but his boss' tone said that such a response would lead to a slow and painful death.  
  
Move to Florida. Work with Crichton and IASA. Reginard sighed inwardly. He wanted a vacation. "I'd be honored," he said.  
  
"Wonderful! I'll have the details sent to you right away." Reginard could hear Gamges racking up the prestige points in his head.   
  
"Thank you, sir," said Reginard. He replaced the receiver in its cradle, staring absently at the buttons.  
  
So Crichton was staying on Earth. He sat back in his chair, trying not to think of what exactly that would entail, but it was no use. If Crichton was coming home, he was going to need a few more of the president's Excedrin before long. He could feel the migraine forming already.  
  
  
  
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End Part Three 


	4. 2010: Earth Odyssey

Ray of Smoke  
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Part 4: 2010: Earth Odyssey  
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Chapter 1: Following a Star  
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"I still think it's a bad idea," said D'argo.   
  
"You think everything I do is a bad idea," John answered, smelling the armpit of his shirt before dropping it on the appropriate pile.  
  
"That's not true," D'argo denied. "I liked your idea of locking up the Humans."  
  
"That was your idea," John pointed out, almost smiling.   
  
"Yes, but you agreed with it!" D'argo waved his finger in triumph. He honestly couldn't remember who had decided to do it. Thinking about it now, it had probably been one of Filalla's. "John..."  
  
"D'argo, we're going." John gave him a look of quiet determination. "Aeryn and I talked about it -"  
  
"I still don't believe that *she* is going along with this!" D'argo threw up his arms in frustration.  
  
"I'm going along with it because it was my idea," Aeryn suddenly said behind him. D'argo turned in surprise and watched her drop the clean laundry on the bed before she turned to face him. "I know you don't like it, D'argo," she said with compassion, "but we need to go. Don't try to stop us."  
  
"But they shot you! How can you even consider about it?" D'argo wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, both of them. They were going to get themselves *and* their children killed.  
  
"Like that doesn't happen everyday," John muttered. "Earth is safer than the Uncharted Territories." He looked up. "Here we're hunted by the Peacekeepers, the Scarrans, bounty hunters, people I've never even heard of. There's always someone shooting at us no matter what we do..." John glanced at Aeryn and sighed. "We're tired of fighting, D'argo. I've been talking with Regie and I think we'll be able to make it work on Earth."  
  
"And the children?" D'argo challenged, not liking this argument. "Can you protect them from your own scientists?"  
  
"Better than we can protect them from a frag canon or spending two days starving in the access conduits," said Aeryn. "They shouldn't be growing up in a war zone."  
  
"They'll get killed!"   
  
"There's more of a chance they'll get killed on Moya!" John shouted. "How many close calls have they had already? It's only a matter of time until one of them gets seriously hurt or worse. We've lost too many -" he cut himself off and looked away. "We're going. I don't know if it's the right decision, but it's the one we've made, so just leave it, D'argo, please."  
  
The Luxan looked from one to the other. "So you're just going to abandon us? What about the refugees, Talyn's mission? The Scarrans and Peacekeepers are not going to stop simply because you run away!"  
  
"And what if they come to Earth, huh?" John glared at him. "They're close to unlocking wormholes D'argo, as close as Scorpy was. I can't leave Earth to face them alone."  
  
"So that's it. You're going." D'argo felt a weight in his stomach, his cold words turning his own insides to ice.   
  
"D'argo -" said Aeryn.  
  
"I don't want to hear it," he cut her off. He'd had enough of excuses, he thought angrily as he stormed out of their quarters.   
  
"Let him go," he heard John say quietly. Frell it! They'd made up their minds, and deep down he knew he couldn't stop them. John and Aeryn were capable of looking after themselves and wouldn't let a little thing like a Luxan warrior prevent them. They we're going to go down to Earth, and there was nothing he could frelling do about it.  
  
  
  
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She wasn't sure what to make of the first plate. It wasn't anything extraordinary, just a plate of fried tubers. But it was sitting in the conduits that she now called home. Rhia had decided that the best way to avoid going to Earth was to hide in Moya's walls till her parents left without her. She'd counted on sleeping in the room next to Moya's starburst chamber, eating Rygel's food stashes, and avoiding everyone that would hunt her down like a criminal. She'd even thought up several booby traps to catch her enemies, but they didn't quite work the way they were supposed to.  
  
The problem was that no one was hunting her. She'd left the morning before after Mama and Dad had told her they were going to Earth, and so far her army of spies - Speckles and the boys - had reported the all clear. They didn't care that she was gone. And now there was a plate of hot tubers in the access conduit. What did it all mean?  
  
And then she realized. It was poison! A trick! They'd made a sleeping potion and sprinkled it on the tubers for her to eat. She'd fall asleep right there where they could grab her and lock her up before the torture started. Very clever, but Rhia was smarter.   
  
She took the plate and skittered away towards the starburst chamber. It was more difficult than usual since she only had one hand to climb the various ladders and inclines between her and her hideout. She finally decided to put the plate of tubers down her shirt, which was belted at the waist, because the more she thought about it, the less she thought you could poison tubers. Her hands now free, she made short work of crawling through the narrow tunnels, climbing down ladders, and ducking under ribs to her home in exile, The Dark Chamber.  
  
The Dark Chamber was a part of a secondary shaft whose ends had been sealed off to make a small room for the children to hide in when there was danger. If someone got this far in, Moya could start a starburst and keep them safe. Rhia knew the room well since it was also one of their play spots, but she only liked it when the door was open. If it was closed, then it meant the danger was for real.  
  
Rhia settled on the mat that served as her bed, kicking her thin blanket to one end. The tubers were still warm when she pulled them out of her shirt and before she could stop herself, she took a bite. They were much better than Rygel's food cubes. Munching happily, Rhia grabbed her coloring sticks and paper and, inspired by her unexpected meal, drew the center chamber with all her favorite foods on the table.  
  
Four solar days passed by and each day, Rhia found a plate of tubers at each mealtime in the tunnel near the center chamber. She knew who was giving them to her: it was Mama. She'd seen her set the plate out while the others were eating. But they never talked about her, no one did. Well good, Rhia told herself. She didn't *want* them to talk about her. But her words did little to fill the disappointment.  
  
As the arns dragged by, day after day, she felt more alone than ever. There was no one to tuck her in or wake her up in the mornings except Speckles, and as much as she loved her DRD, it wasn't the same. The games she normally played alone or with Seth and Essor felt different now that she couldn't go home afterward. Mama and Dad weren't there to read stories or sing or anything. She even missed grandpa Jack. In the Dark Chamber, Rhia spent countless hours coloring in the silence but she was getting tired of it. Part of her wanted to go home, but another part wouldn't let her lose the fight. They would have to beg and send her gifts and say they were sorry and wrong before she ever went back!   
  
Every day she came up with another victorious return. Mama and Dad would hug her and tell her that she would never have to go to Earth, that she could do whatever she wanted as long as she stayed with them. Everyone would congratulate her bravery through her suffering, and tell her how much they missed her, and they'd have a feast in her honor with all her favorite foods and no food cubes or tubers. Rhia would graciously forgive them, and everything would be all right again. That was the bedtime story that she clung to and that got her through the long days.  
  
And then came the note. It was a clear DRD sheet of plastic paper sitting neatly on her supper with her name on it in script. Slightly frightened by its unusual presence, Rhia looked out through the open panel into the center chamber but she didn't see anyone. Deciding to wait till she was safely back in the Dark Chamber, Rhia quickly returned. Out of breath, she stared at the note, not quite daring to read it yet. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for. They would apologize and tell her they couldn't stand her being away any longer.   
  
Almost joyfully, Rhia opened the note and read: "Rhia, We've run out of plates in the center chamber. Would you return the ones you have? Tomorrow I'll put out a change of clothes for you. Just leave the ones you're wearing in their place, and I'll wash them. Do you need anything else? Extra blankets, toys? Let me know. I love you, Mama."  
  
Rhia stared confusedly at the words that were not at all what she had expected. Mama didn't want her back, but she loved her anyway? She was *helping* her live away from home, but why? All her scenarios of a triumphant return crashed around her. Rhia just wanted to go home, she realized before bursting into tears.   
  
A quarter of an arn later, scrubbing her hands over her eyes so that she could see, she ascended back to quarters where everything was just as it had been before she'd left. She heard voices from her parents' room, which made her stop and almost run away again, but Speckles urged her on.  
  
"They've both been moping about like a couple of lost puppy dogs," she heard Dad say. "Pip says he's too controlling, but I think there's more to it than that."  
  
"She won't admit that she's in love with him. It scares the dren out of her because it's not just about the sex anymore," said Mama.  
  
Rhia cautiously looked around the open doorway. Mama and Dad were sitting next to each other on the bed, Mama cleaning her gun and Dad sewing up a hole in one of Seth's shirts. When Speckles whistled they both looked up.  
  
"Well, look who showed up," Mama smiled. "Everything all right? Do you need anything?" Feeling shy all of a sudden, Rhia shook her head. They didn't want her back. She'd run away, and now they didn't want her back! She could feel the tears sting her eyes. "Come here, baby." Mama held out her hand, and Rhia ran sobbing to her.  
  
"I wanna come home," she mumbled as her mother's strong arms picked her up and held her tight.  
  
"We missed you!" The soft words only made her cry harder.  
  
Rhia, exhausted, finally snuggled down between the two of them. Dad ran his hand over her hair, grinning. Feeling safe, the little girl closed her eyes.  
  
"She needs a bath," Dad said softly over her head. And for once Rhia didn't care.  
  
  
  
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"Imbecile," Rygel muttered under his breath, but Regie didn't hear him.  
  
"Commander," the diplomat addressed John, "I realize the government is being a little restrictive about the divulgence of technology -"  
  
"Regie, they're talking monopoly. And there is no way in hell they're walkin' away with Park Place and Boardwalk."  
  
"There are national security concerns at stake," Regie countered. "We can't let the technology you're bringing us fall into the hands of terrorists."  
  
"I'm not working on a military base."  
  
"Ambassador Reginard," Rygel spoke up, "the United states government is only a partner in your international organization. Your own laws must prevent such intervention."  
  
"The US government is not proposing that you work counter to international law."  
  
"What? You want me to work just for you and snub IASA?" John sighed. Typical Black Suit thinking. It's what had kept the contract negotiations stalled for the past two and a half weekens. Waiting for replies or equally unacceptable terms was getting tiresome. "I've told you, I'm going to work for IASA in developing space and defense technology in case of an attack from space. The government's gonna have to go through them if they want a piece of the pie. Now can I talk to someone from IASA? This is going nowhere."  
  
"As a member of the First Contact Team, I represent IASA as well," said Reginard with a sigh.  
  
"Does IASA know that?"  
  
"Crichton, look," Reginard leaned toward the camera. "You don't like it, I don't like it, but this is what gets sent down to me from about fifteen different people who all want a piece of the pie, as you put it. You don't want to know how much bullshit I've already thrown in the wastebasket with reminders of you and your family's citizenship."  
  
John rubbed his eyes. "All right. You're doing your best," he said.  
  
"Now that we've said 'no'," Rygel continued, "will you be able to work out a separate deal between the US government and IASA that will satisfy Crichton and both parties?"  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Reginard glanced at his notes. "How 'bout we call it a day?" he asked, looking back up.  
  
John was more than happy to agree. With a tired see-you-tomorrow, he and Rygel signed off.  
  
"That went rather well," Rygel commented as they left command together. By mutual agreement they headed toward the center chamber for what was now becoming a ritual drink after talking with Earth.   
  
"If you say so, Sparky."  
  
"I do," was the self-assured reply. "We've reached the second stage of the negotiations. Now our demands will be listened to so that when we get to the third stage, we will get what we want."  
  
"There's a third stage to this little opera?"  
  
"You're feeble mind couldn't possibly understand," Rygel snorted dismissively. John rolled his eyes as they reached their destination. Napoleon always had to have the last word. With a twinge, he realized he was going to miss the annoying tyke.  
  
Dad was sitting at the table with a mug of hot tea in his hands when they came in. "Hey there," he greeted them, raising his mug slightly in salute. "How are the negotiations going?"  
  
"Excellent. Are there any dried tubers left?" asked Rygel heading straight for the fridge unit.  
  
John ran a hand through his hair. "Long," he told his father. He grabbed a mug of his own and joined the elder Crichton at the table. "The government basically wants me to sign a separate contract with them to give them exclusive rights to all the military data, but since that includes just about everything, IASA would be left with nothing."  
  
"And you don't trust the government to be in sole control," Jack finished. "I don't blame you."  
  
"Yeah. I'd probably disappear and never see the sunlight again."  
  
"John, it wouldn't be that bad," his Dad disagreed.   
  
John looked at him feeling the rift between them yawn once more. Dad had seemed to forgive John his murderous ways when he and Aeryn had decided to stay on Earth, but he still didn't understand the leap of faith they were taking. They were about to jump off a cliff without knowing if a sonic net was there to catch them.  
  
"What's wrong, son?"   
  
Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, he realized, and the concern he saw on his father's reminded him that he used to tell him everything, even after he'd been shot into the Uncharted Territories. "This move scares me, Dad," he said. "What if it's the wrong decision?"  
  
"It is," said Rygel through a mouthful of food.   
  
"Shut up, Buckwheat." John stared into eyes that once he thought he'd never see again. His father's eyes no longer seemed to be judging him but instead trying to understand.  
  
"Why do you think it might be the wrong decision?"  
  
"I'm scared the government will go after Aeryn and the kids. Medical experiments -"  
  
"Dissection," Rygel interrupted.  
  
John glared at the slug while Dad looked at him for an explanation. Here it goes again, he thought. "These aliens called the 'Ancients' took a walk through my brain and recreated Earth so they could see her reaction to an alien presence. We were locked up. Rygel was poisoned and dissected - well not really, but he was pretty pissed when he found out about it. I eventually figured it out but..."  
  
"It wasn't easy going back even if it wasn't real," Dad finished. "I had no idea."  
  
John shrugged. It was still difficult to talk about. The Ancients had really shaken his faith in the universe, Earth, himself even. It wasn't easy to look at what they did with his memories and say, 'See these people? These people are my people.'  
  
"Is that why you brought weapons down when you landed?" Dad asked.  
  
"One reason."  
  
"And the other?"  
  
John smiled, recognizing the old pattern of Q&A Dad always used to get him to talk. The only thing now was that he was afraid the answers would put that hostile glint back in Dad's eye. "We don't go anywhere unarmed if we can help it."  
  
"Oh." Dad took a sip of his tea, but when he looked up again there was only sadness.  
  
Feeling the need to explain, John added, "If I have Winona I have a chance."  
  
"Winona?"  
  
"My gun."  
  
John held his eyes, refusing to back down. Finally, Dad nodded. "I understand," he said. "It's just hard seeing you so...different."  
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
"No, don't be sorry." Dad shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I've been...I'm an old man. I was just surprised."  
  
John laughed at the understatement of the cycle. Soon, Dad joined him, and it felt good.   
  
  
  
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Aeryn read over the final contract. They would work for IASA at the Kennedy Space Center with a team of scientists, made up of IASA and military personnel. Reginard was their liaison with the Government and Seymore the one with IASA. IASA would provide a house in a guarded neighborhood, the government extra security. The media was restricted to IASA press conferences and something called a 'restraining order' would be invoked if they were bothered elsewhere.  
  
Which would most likely be another attack, Aeryn thought cynically but quickly chastised herself. She remembered talking with Jack about it. He'd said the press would increase their internal security since it had been a disaster for their reputation, greatly reducing the risk of an attack from that angle, and that the press was actually a safety net to keep them from being secretly kidnapped. Aeryn would just have to trust that that was true. A frustrating thought.  
  
"It looks alright," she said glancing up from the hologram to where half of the crew was waiting for her approval.   
  
"Are you sure?" asked John across from her.  
  
Aeryn smiled for him. She was sure. This was their chance, the children's chance, at a better life. Yes, it might be dangerous, but then so was living on a leviathan in the middle of a war. She was willing to take the risk.   
  
"We leave in two days?" she confirmed. John nodded. Aeryn looked back at the contract, but this time her eyes didn't read the words. It had been a little more than a monen since they'd made the decision, not knowing if it would really happen or not. Now it was happening. In two days she would be on John's planet, peopled by billions of him. Well, maybe not *him*, she thought, looking fondly at her mate. A slow grin crept across his face.  
  
"So that's it then?" she asked.  
  
"That's it." A general shuffle rose as Aeryn, John, Rygel, D'argo, Chiana, and Emmerit got to their feet.  
  
"I just hope Rhia doesn't disappear again," Aeryn commented, switching off the chip recorder.  
  
John smiled, "One crisis at a time."  
  
  
  
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The move down to the planet was surprisingly hassle-free. IASA was serious about their promises and kept the press to a minimum while the pod landed with them and their meager belongings. John's old friend Giller conducted them to their new house, a statue of a man doing his unhappy duty very reluctantly. He still hadn't forgiven John for getting by his security with weapons and this time made a point of searching their bags. Disguised as toys, he missed them again.  
  
A crowd of family and close friends greeted them at the house to welcome them to Earth. In truth, John remembered it in a blur of faces, more concerned with reassuring Seth than anything else. There had been a lot of backslapping and the same conversation repeated at least fifty times.  
  
"Hey, John, how's it feel to be back?"  
  
"Good."  
  
"What's it like out there? What happened?"  
  
"It's different. I'll tell you about it later." Then he would move on.  
  
Now, two days later, it was hitting him: being back was strange. There was really no other way to describe it. Everything around John was familiar from a lifetime of use yet so completely odd at the same time. The first time he used the coffee machine he had nearly broken the damn thing. Nothing felt comfortable. Instead, he still felt like he was going to walk into the next room and see Pip and D chatting in front of the TV like one of his messed up fantasies. But they were on Moya, a universe away.  
  
John had thought he was ready to come back. After a month and a half of negotiating, convincing the kids, D'argo, and the rest that they weren't insane to do this, he'd thought it time. That the waiting and preparing would make it easier. He'd dreamed of showing Aeryn a thousand things about Earth: pizza, beer, the mall, his T-bird. But, of course, it wasn't that simple. Things had changed since he'd left. Not a lot, but little things like the fact that videotapes were considered dinosaur age. It left him feeling out of touch, which he was in a big way having been gone, and not as eager to find out what else was different. Everything around sparked memories of a past life that seemed like a dream, leaving him depressed by what he'd missed.  
  
And Christmas only made it worse. Overload would be putting it mildly. His whole family had descended on the Cape, but the phone calls and Christmas letters from old friends and strangers alike hadn't helped. This many people knowing where he lived made him decidedly nervous.  
  
When he'd seen the wreath on the door, John at first hadn't recognized it. He hadn't thought about Christmas much in the unending season of space. On Moya they had thrown a party a time or two to celebrate being alive and kicking, but they had been few and far between. Now, Christmas was here, and to John it felt...flat, like he was watching it through someone else's eyes. He should have been jumping for joy to be reunited with his family again, as they were, (well, most of them), but it wasn't that easy when everything just felt weird: doors with doorknobs, square rooms, harsh bright lights, and most disturbingly, the silence at night. It was a sound John associated with being not on Moya or Talyn - hostile territory or captured. Maybe that was why he felt on edge all the time, as if everyone were watching him.  
  
"So how's it feel to be back?" DK suddenly asked, startling John whose hand went immediately to his empty side. His old friend plopped down beside him on the couch and handed him a beer.  
  
"A bit strange," John answered. As casually as possible, he slid his hand back to a more natural position.   
  
DK didn't even notice. "Yeah, I'll bet. You'll be settled in in no time, though. Don't worry about it," DK grinned. "Happy to have Christmas again?"  
  
John shrugged, thoughts spinning. The kids at least were loving it, now that they had gotten used to all the strangers John called family. They had adjusted for the most part, more than he and Aeryn anyway. He had the grocery store to thank for that: Rhia had never seen so many different foods in one place before in her life. Extremely impressed, it was her favorite place to go now, and John had a sneaking suspicion that carrots and spaghetti would find their way into his stocking.  
  
"Oh, come on, you know you missed it," DK egged as he always had when he was trying to get John to admit something.  
  
"Okay," John gave in. "I missed the beer," he said, sending DK into a fit of laughter.  
  
"Good to know you've got your priorities straight," DK teased. "Don't worry," he leaned in to whisper, "I won't tell Aeryn."  
  
"Tell me what?" The two men turned quickly and saw Aeryn come in through the doorway behind the couch followed by Lisa with a bowl of red and green M&M's.   
  
"Nothing," said DK innocently. It was the old pattern of covering in front of the girlfriend, or in this case the wife. Not that Aeryn would care, but DK seemed to be enjoying himself. John just flashed her a half smile that told her he would tell her later.   
  
"So John, how's it feel?" asked Lisa. "Good to be back in the groove?"   
  
"I'm doing okay," he said again. "Bit strange."  
  
"Better, I hope, than when you ended up out wherever you were?" Lisa grabbed a handful of M&M's and sat back, grinning.  
  
"Managed to avoid killing anyone," John joked back, snatching a couple of green ones for himself. Beside him, DK stiffened, and the smile slipped briefly from his sister's face. Oh yeah, he had killed someone. Exchanging another look with Aeryn, John knew he was going to have to wipe that word from his vocabulary.  
  
"You killed someone when you first got out there?" DK demanded, quickly adding, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."  
  
"It was an accident." John looked away, memories of the day that had changed their lives forever flickering through his mind.   
  
"What about you, Aeryn? How do you like Earth?" Lisa quickly steered away from the touchy topic.  
  
"It's..." John could just see 'primitive' on the tip of her tongue, "pleasant."  
  
"Real different from what you're used to, huh?" Lisa smiled.  
  
"It explains a lot," Aeryn returned.  
  
The sound of tires on the driveway saved them from further interrogation. A moment later half a dozen car doors slammed shut and the gaggle of kids came in laden down by grocery bags with Melanie, Ryan, and Mark.  
  
"We better go give them a hand," Lisa stood up, the others following her example. By the time they reached the dining room, three kids - their two, and Melanie's four year old - were already storming out of the kitchen towards them.  
  
"Guess what, guess what!" Rhia shouted as she slammed into John's legs. "We met Santa Clause!" she rushed on before he had a chance to ask. Then in the garbled mix of languages she always fell into when she was excited, Rhia explained all about Santa Clause and his reindeer, Rudolph and the elves who made presents while John and Aeryn listened patiently, though Aeryn did throw a few amused glances his way. When she was done, Rhia took off with Seth and David, with barely a goodbye, to go upstairs and read 'The Night Before Christmas' which Ryan had bought for them.  
  
So Rhia was happy thanks to grocery stores and Santa Clause, John smiled as he grabbed one of the plastic bags to unpack. A light conversation picked up around him about the kids, but John paid it little attention, thinking instead of the change in them over the last couple of days from extremely shy carry-me-everywhere to their normal, half-wild selves. They were happy here, and that was what counted.   
  
John would get used to it here again, after all he had adjusted to the Uncharted Territories, hadn't he? Hopefully, Aeryn would hold up under the pressure too, but it was hard on her. Glancing up to the island where she was unpacking bags without putting anything away, he saw her neutral mask covering the exhaustion underneath. She still wasn't comfortable with the family all around them, often talking about old acquaintances and Earthy things that she didn't understand. Like him, she wasn't sleeping well, which didn't help matters any.  
  
"Excuse me, John." Melanie, startling him back to the present, gently pushed him out of her way to get at the cabinet he was standing in front of.  
  
"You know, you could have just asked me to put it away for you," he told her. Melanie gave him a look that clearly indicated that asking him for anything was out of the question. John sighed. He just wished that he could get her to talk to him and not have one of those double-edged conversations that were all he was getting now. But Melanie refused to crack.  
  
No, coming home was not easy at all. Between adjusting to all the familiar oddities, keeping Aeryn sane, the kids in line, and trying to live up to his family's Christmas wish that everything go back to normal, John just wanted to escape to Moya's hangar where he could lose himself in repairs. But he'd made his choice and Moya would be leaving soon to meet Talyn. There was no going back.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 2: Hi Ho, Li Lo, It's Off to Work We Go  
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Landers stood as the Joint Chiefs filed into the conference room, shaking their hands before they settled around the table. "Gentlemen," he greeted them. The six military personal nodded in return over a general, low spoken "Mr. President." The mood was somber and deathly silent as Chairman Admiral Anthony Prior began his briefing by handing the President a folder.  
  
"As you know, the Diplomatic Enclave in Islamabad, Pakistan was attacked a second time four days ago. Thirty-four dead, twenty-eight wounded. It was a well-planned, concise attack consisting of two suicide bombers and rooftop covering fire. The information gathered by our intelligence units in the months preceding the attack was inconclusive leaving our forces in the dark as to the where, how, and when. However, recent reports indicate that if we move quickly we should be able to get a hold of at least the remaining cell members if not the network in the area." The former admiral of the Pacific Fleet nodded for his aides to dim the lights and then began the presentation.  
  
Landers listened to the plan his military advisors had cooked up over the last couple of days, asking a clarifying question here and there about their reasoning and tactics. It was complicated, but then most military operations these days had to strike a delicate balance between brute force and espionage to catch terrorists before they went underground. And it didn't help to have deal with a government that shook one hand with the world while it wiped away evidence with the other. Such was the Middle East these days.  
  
"What can we expect from our allies?" Landers asked when the bulk of the presentation was finished.  
  
"Since this was a terrorist attack, we will have at least verbal support form our allies. Whether they will do more than they have in the past is another question given the political climate," Admiral Prior replied.  
  
Landers didn't have to ask for clarification of what that meant. Even before the first Embassy attack last summer, the situation had been going downhill, snowballing in just the last month with another bloody conflict in Kashmir breaking out. Secretary Clermont already had his hands full of that situation and now with this second attack, things were only going to get worse.   
  
That thought led him to his next troubled question. "Why was our intelligence inconclusive?"   
  
"As our technology gets better, so does theirs," said Prior. "Encryption codes, double language codes, new methods of transferring information...Our intelligence people are doing their best."  
  
"Well, you're best just got thirty-four people killed!" Landers snapped, patience breaking. With a sigh, he paused to get a grip on his temper. "Excuse me, Admiral."   
  
"Of course, Mr. President. It's been frustrating for us all," Prior murmured graciously but with a steel in his voice that Landers knew was aimed not at him, but at the terrorists who had murdered thirty-four service men and relief workers in a United States Embassy.   
  
When would it stop, the endless fighting and the hate? They had been waging this war on terror for too long with too few victories. Landers knew there were no easy answers. At this point, drastic measures seemed like the only solution.  
  
  
  
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Jack sighed in contentment as he settled before the glowing fire with a mug of coffee. Stomach full, surrounded by his whole family, it was good to say that Christmas had been a success. Smiling, he remembered the look of astonishment on Rhia and Seth's faces when they had seen the tree lit up, full stockings in front of the chimney, and more presents than there had been the night before. Their first Christmas had been filled with candy, clothes, and toys of which a few, like the stuffed animals, had been met with puzzlement since they of course hadn't known what they represented.  
  
John and Aeryn had also enjoyed themselves, receiving clothes from the girls to supplement their few Earth outfits, and a fishing rod and tackle from him. When John had opened DK's gag gift of underwear, he'd grinned and passed the package to Aeryn who'd simply glared at him until he'd added it to the growing pile of clothes, books, and CDs.  
  
All in all, things were going well, he thought. John had joked and horsed around in front of the TV with DK, Mark, and Ryan, fully approving of his little sister's choice in husbands while they made a general nuisance of themselves. Lisa and Melanie had been everywhere: cooking dinner and making sure the festivities kept under control, while Aeryn took the kid watch and kept them from breaking their toys on the first day. She was a natural with them; one look was all it took to calm them down a little while they played - two parts fear from her nephews but utter respect from her own children who kept pulling her into their games like a familiar playmate, which Jack soon saw she was.  
  
"Hey, Dad." Jack glanced up in surprise when Melanie sat down tiredly beside him. He thought everyone else had gone to bed.  
  
"Hey, kiddo. How're you holding up?" he asked.   
  
Mel scrubbed her face. "Tired," she said through a yawn. "But okay, I guess."  
  
"Well, you and Lise sure knocked yourselves out on that dinner. It was wonderful."  
  
"Oh, it was nothing special," Melanie said modestly.  
  
"No really, compared with how you used to cook?" Jack teased.   
  
Grinning, Melanie replied, "Aeryn seemed to think it was pretty strange."  
  
Jack chuckled, glowing from the inside out at this rare conversation with his youngest daughter. They had never been close, and since John had 'died,' it had only gotten worse. But here they were. Talking like they had used to. Amazing. "She did eat it, though," he pointed out.  
  
"Yeah." Melanie looked down at her hands, and Jack took another sip of his coffee, hoping she would tell him what was on her mind. "I don't know if I like her," she finally said. "Aeryn, I mean."  
  
"Really? Why not?"  
  
"Her and John...I hated him for leaving. I think I hate him even more for coming back, especially since he and Aeryn are so..."  
  
"Married?"  
  
"Married. Happy together. Part of me wants him to suffer like we did. But having him home... I don't know."  
  
Jack took another sip of coffee, thinking about his son. On Moya he had been so different, dark. The clothes, the gun - *Winona*, he reminded himself. "*If I have Winona I have a chance - A choice between me or them, I'm gonna make sure it's them.*" Again he wondered what had happened out there. John hadn't said much, the stories he did tell kept them laughing and didn't explain why he felt the need to carry a gun, *name* his gun.  
  
"I know it's hard 'cause he was gone for so long, but he did want to come back to be with us," Jack said. "I think more happened out there than he lets on, and I don't think all of it was nice."  
  
"Yeah. I just wish he would at least talk about it, you know? Not go on as if we grieved for nothing. If anyone even mentions it, all he does is look at Aeryn and change the subject. I feel like I'm missing something he says."  
  
Jack hadn't noticed, but then he'd simply been happy to have John home and hadn't looked any further. "Maybe you should talk to him." Melanie snorted at the idea. "Well, you're talking to me, so we know miracles can happen."  
  
She looked over at him with the same exasperated expression Leslie used to give him when he said something not even worthy of a comment. After a moment, however, it softened, as if Mel had just realized that she was actually having a heart to heart with her old man. "I'll think about it." She stood and headed for the stairs and her waiting bed. "Night." It was more than Jack had hoped for from her. Another Christmas miracle.  
  
  
  
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Glancing at the clock on the wall, Reginard cursed. He was going to be late, he just knew it. He hated January! All the paperwork that went on Christmas vacation came back like the Ghost of Christmas Past to haunt him - or maybe it was God's way of punishing the government and the bureaucrats who wrapped everyone else up in paperwork for the rest of the year. Whatever the reason, Reginard had paperwork, and lots of it, that had to be done if he didn't want Clermont breathing down his neck, before the Welcome ceremony at one o'clock.  
  
With a sigh, Reginard got down to prioritizing, making a note to find a new secretary who could do this for him. The young lady he had now was too scared to screw up and thus gave him everything, even after he had told her at least a dozen times that he did not want every single security report. There had to be a good ten in the stack - all mixed in, of course, so he couldn't just grab the lot and throw them out the window. Clamping down on his frustration, Reginard took a deep breath and tried to calm down.   
  
Security report, security report, FCC memo, FCC diner invitation, he leafed through the pile. Security report, report status requests from DC - State Department, Defense Department, and the White House - security report, threatening letter, IASA water bill - how the hell did that get into his in basket? Great, now they were trying to give him paperwork that wasn't even his. Security report, investigation report - he stopped, pulling it out. Now that was something he'd willingly read.   
  
With a grim smile, he opened the envelope from the Canaveral FBI Bureau, hoping they'd made progress in tracking down the money used to bribe the National Guardsman when Crichton had come to visit back in October. The report his buddy Stanley sent him wasn't very promising. Talking with Private Chase's comrades had loosened up the fact that he'd been bribed and a few names to check out, but so far nothing new. The only lead they had now was a printed letter with pickup instructions for the other half of the money. The date had come and gone with a no show, but they still had the call sign of the sender, 'Piece of Cod', which they were translating to mean 'Peace of God', (only took them a week to figure that one out, he recalled sarcastically.)  
  
The only problem with that lead was the number of religious groups who were against Crichton and the aliens, the number of factions within them, and the easy likelihood of someone using them to cover his ass. As he read the report, and more importantly, between the lines, Reginard knew they were still working on it. It would be a long haul.  
  
He filed the report in the cabinet by his desk, then stacked up his now prioritized inbox, the security reports on the bottom. If he didn't get to them, well gee-darn, guess his secretary would have to get them sorted out during lunch. The morning passed in a boring rush of his own reports to Washington, IASA, and the FCC, getting everything neat and in order before Crichton and Sun came to work that afternoon.  
  
Sure enough, he didn't have time to start the security reports by the time 12:45 rolled around. With an apologetic smile, he handed them to his secretary on his way to the main building, with instructions that they be summarized and annotated with names and telephone numbers by the time he got back. Which he didn't tell her.  
  
The media was all set up when he arrived. Bypassing them, Reginard headed for the conference room where Jeremy and Michel were probably already waiting for him. His watch told him he had five minutes before he had to go shake hands and listen to another of Oursler's 'Great Step for Humanity' speeches. Mentally he reviewed his checklist for the afternoon: keep Crichton happy and safe, keep him and Giller away from each other, keep him and Oursler away from each other as much as possible, make sure the scientists got to mingle before they exploded from the excitement, keep the press happy, make sure Scott didn't speak at all... that about covered it.  
  
"Hi, Thomas," Jeremy greeted him cheerfully when he entered the conference room. "You spilt coffee on your shirt." Reginard looked down. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse. There it was: a nice, light brown stain. Mocking him.  
  
  
  
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"Today's ceremony marks the beginning of another stage in Man's quest to discover the stars," Shannon reported. "Commander John Crichton was welcomed back into the fold of IASA where he will lead his former colleagues on a new journey. IASA has created a special project team composed of IASA and military personnel to study, learn, and adapt the alien technology to Earth's needs. IASA spokesman, Peter Feilly said that the possibilities are endless: from faster than light space travel to new medical procedures to new defenses against terrorism. The technology will be shared among the IASA member nations."  
  
"How have Commander Crichton and his alien companion reacted to their second welcome on Earth?" asked Debra from the anchor desk, fifty miles away.  
  
"Since they arrived on Earth three weeks ago, they have been sequestered from the public eye while they spent Christmas with the Crichton family. At their first public appearance today, they appeared calm and unworried about an attack. Ambassador Thomas Reginard said in a statement yesterday that both security and employee screening has been stepped up."  
  
"How great is the threat of a second assassination attempt?"  
  
"Well, Debra, since the first incident there has been an overwhelming condemnation of the attack because of its terrorist tactics and threat to American civilians. There are still voices of protest, but IASA and government security measures have kept overt action to a minimum."  
  
"Thank you, Shannon. This is Debra Wilkins, and we'll be right back."  
  
Shannon expelled a satisfied breath once Debra signed off. Pulling out the earpiece, she accepted the water bottle Henry handed her and took a long drink. "Nothing like a story to make your throat dry."  
  
"Finally," muttered David as he packed up the equipment. They'd all been pretty put out by the security blockade around Crichton. They'd tried getting into the neighborhood but the single gate was unbribable and they didn't want to push their luck while the rumored Secret Service was living in the house across the street.  
  
"Come on," said Shannon briskly. "The next press conference is in an hour and I want to get good seats."  
  
  
  
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Dan honestly tried, but he couldn't keep the happy grin off his face. His friend and colleague Kiwi Taylor looked at him as a parent would an excited child. John had arrived with his alien, Oursler's speeches were over, the press's questions answered, and now... now work would begin! And Daniel Henry Bemear was the senior engineer on Crichton's team!   
  
While Dan had never been a close friend of John's, he had known him fairly well from working together on various projects, including the latter stages of the first Farscape Project. They'd gotten along together, and Dan couldn't wait to get down to the nuts and bolts of the alien technology. Not to mention the fact that he was going to be working with a real live alien woman! It was a moment to savor.  
  
"Commander Crichton, Ms. Sun, the research team you'll be working with headed by Dr. Bemear. I think you already know each other," Jeremy introduced them. Dan eagerly shook hands with the two of them.  
  
"Dan, nice to see you again," said John.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Ms. Sun greeted him in slightly accented English.  
  
"The pleasure is mine," Dan replied, managing not to garble the words. "Let me introduce you to the team." Taking over from Jeremy, he eagerly led them into the room where the other eight scientists were waiting. Part of him still couldn't believe this was finally happening. "First from IASA, Dr. Peter Howard and Dr. Maria Pellam whom I believe you met on Moya." The two engineers shook their hands, and Dan went on. "Shuttle Pilot Kiwi Taylor -"  
  
"Kiwi?" John asked, surprised by the odd name.  
  
The pilot chuckled. "From New Zealand. We're called Kiwis because of the native bird. When I moved here it just stuck," she said, her Down Under island accent strong. Dan smiled with vicarious pride; she loved talking about her country.  
  
"And Commander Jason Klee, also from the astronaut corps," he continued. "He was on the Space Station when Moya arrived for the first time."  
  
"Nice to see you made it home in one piece, Commander," said Klee as he heartily shook John's hand.  
  
"Thank you, Commander," John answered with a smile.  
  
Moving on, Dan introduced the military contingent, a good group of people in his opinion. He and Jeremy had worked hard to pick an open, non-threatening group. "Major Dell Fanby, Army Combat Engineers; Captains George O'Reilly and Simon Worthel, Air Force Space Command; Captain Diana Lerner, Naval Intelligence."  
  
"Nice to meet y'all," said John after all the introductions were finished. "I don't have a speech or anything, so why don't we get straight to the punch." The suggestion was met with smiles and the scratch of chairs as the new team settled around the large table. "We brought a bunch of stuff from Moya with us: blueprints, my module, worn out spare parts for us to work with, plus all the notes I've made over the years for some of the stuff I've seen. That should get us started with the basic systems for the hetch and we'll go from there."  
  
"John," Dan spoke up, "can you give us an idea of what specifically we are going to work on?"  
  
"Power and fuel sources for starters," the astronaut told him. "Expanded laws of physics and dimensions you'll need for just about everything. Hetch, planetary warning and defense systems, and some other cool toys," John shrugged and looked at Ms. Sun to see if she had anything to add.  
  
"You're the tech," she said.  
  
"Right. And you're *just* the mechanic," he returned, his tone making it clear they were bantering over a long-standing joke, and Dan smiled with the rest of his team. It looked like they would have a good working atmosphere. This was so exciting! He resisted the urge to start laughing.  
  
"Any questions before we get started?" John asked.  
  
"Yes," Captain Worthel raised a finger. "What can you tell us about how you reached the other galaxy? At Peterson, we recorded the radiation wave that struck your module at the time of the Slingshot Maneuver. It's never been proved, but since your recent return, we've been throwing around the wormhole idea, that you somehow opened a gate, if you will, between our solar system and where you landed. What are your thoughts?"  
  
John stared at him a second before answering, "that's the theory I came up with but never proved either."  
  
"Even with all the advanced technology available?" Worthel asked, surprised.  
  
"Yeah, we kinda had other things on our minds at the time," John answered, shifting slightly in his seat.  
  
"So you think that's what happened?" Captain O'Reilly jumped in excitedly.   
  
"You know," said Maria, "we could probably get wormholes on the agenda as -"  
  
"Could we not talk about wormholes?" John suddenly interrupted, his voice suddenly harsh with a glare to match.   
  
"But -"  
  
"Wormholes bring nothing but destruction," Aeryn said quietly, her gaze sliding over every member of the team. When it landed on him, Dan couldn't help but look away from the sad sincerity that lurked just beneath the surface. "They're not worth the pain they cause."  
  
"Anything else?" asked John, briskly. It was apparently not a subject he wanted to dwell on. Surprised by the change in attitude, Dan wondered what Ms. Sun had meant. Why would wormholes cause pain? They were only for transportation.  
  
"You said you modified the Farscape with hetch technology?" Dan asked to get them back on safer ground. "How did you merge the two technologies? Will we be going into that?"  
  
John nodded. "Yeah. I'll show what I've done. Help you get an idea of what you're getting into. You wanna see her now?" Dan couldn't stop the grin. John stood up, Ms. Sun following his example. Dan and the rest of the team needed no further invitation.   
  
Dan led them out of the building to one of the research hangars nearby where John swiped his card and entered a code that let them into the building. Inside, Dan felt his mouth slide open in awed shock. The Farscape I. It was like coming face to face with a holy relic. The expectation and the actual sight were once again at odds with each other. The sleek vessel was still mostly white with many black burns streaking its sides. Under one such mark, he could just make out the American flag and IASA logo, still there after all this time like an echo to the past. Dan felt a shiver go up his spine. This was it! This was real! This ship had taken John to another galaxy! He barely dared breath.  
  
And then he noticed the unfamiliar: gold fins on each side of the craft that had to be part of the hetch drive. He was looking at a ship that could go faster than the speed of light!  
  
"Wow," breathed Jason. "She's beautiful." From the matching expressions of reverence on the others' faces, Dan knew that for each in his or her own way, this was a religious experience, even for the military personnel. Wormholes utterly forgotten, the team advanced slowly and listened carefully as Crichton and Sun began to explain.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 3: Twister  
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This was the story of her life, Chiana thought bitterly as she looked sideways down the table. She had something perfect, too perfect by her standards, so she frelled it up, cut and run, biting before she was bit. It had been almost three monens since she had told Medri to never come near her again, one they had spent in orbit around Earth, the other two on the journey back to the familiar parts of the Uncharted Territories. They were talking again, if one called short monosyllabic conversations talking, that is. She had almost tried apologizing and actually got as far as "I'm" before he had cut her off with a terse "forget it."  
  
Sighing, Chiana picked at her food. A new supply, thankfully, but she still didn't know what it was. The conversation she had had with John before he and Aeryn had left floated to her mind like a haunting ghost, words stinging just as freshly if they had just been said. "Well, little girl, you really screwed the pooch this time," he'd told her. She remembered the way she had avoided his eyes as he had sat down beside her. "You can't keep kicking 'em in the balls just because you're scared."  
  
"He deserved it," she'd muttered defiantly.  
  
"Because you provoked him into a rage by flirting. If you want him back, you're going to have to make the first move. No other way to clean up this mess. And I think you want him back."  
  
Damn him for knowing her so well, she cursed silently. At the other end of the table, Medri was stubbornly not looking in her direction. Was she *in* love with him? How did you know when you were in love? True, they'd been frelling each other for over two cycles now, but she'd done that before with friends and enemies alike. But how did she know it was *love*? Something to commit to, like John and Aeryn finally had, as D'argo had wanted to all those cycles ago? What if it didn't work?  
  
That was the question that terrified her, the one she didn't want to look in the face. Now, she'd never find out, she thought bitterly. "When you completely frell up, you're the only one who can fix it," Aeryn's words came back to her suddenly. She should know, Chiana thought. She remembered giving the ex-peacekeeper advice, but it was suddenly so much harder now that she was to one who had to take it.  
  
"Fix it." The Nebari took a deep breath to steady herself. Medri was still engrossed in his conversation with Fil about the best course to take to the rendezvous with Talyn. Standing, Chiana walked over to them.  
  
"Hey," she said, so nervous that she felt her knees tremble. The spotted man looked up carefully, and Filalla muttered something about relieving Emmerit on watch and left.  
  
"What do you want?" Medri asked, turning back to his plate.  
  
"I just...uh...just..." her mind blanked out.  
  
"What? No one else around to frell?" he snapped, impatiently this time. Chiana stepped back, stung, ready to do battle, but she managed to swallow down the angry retort.  
  
"I wanted to, uh...apologize. I'm sorry." There. It was done, but her boots still quaked.  
  
"For what?"  
  
'For what!?' Was he being deliberately stupid? Chiana felt her temper flare. *He* was the one that had started accusing her! Why the frell had she thought she could solve anything by apologizing? "Because you provoked him into a rage by flirting," John's unforgiving voice echoed in the back of her mind.  
  
Unable to stand any longer, Chiana sat down in Filalla's place across from Medri. He glared at her but didn't say anything. It gave her hope that he hadn't walked out on her yet. "I'm sorry for, you know...the Human."  
  
He stared at her. "Yeah," he finally said. Chiana didn't know what else to say. What was she supposed to do now?  
  
After another awkward moment of not looking at each other, she repeated, "yeah," and stood to go. So much for fixing things, she thought crossly.  
  
But when she reached the door, Medri called out. "How's Essor?" A strange question since he'd seen him, of course. The ship was too small for him not to have, and Essor went everywhere he pleased anyway.  
  
"He's good," she told him, feeling suddenly on safer ground. "You can...you can come see him. If you want."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Medri looked back at his plate, pushing the remaining food around with his fork. He didn't look back up, so Chiana left. It wasn't till she was back in her quarters that she started to breath normally again.  
  
  
  
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Looking around the cafeteria, Aeryn didn't see anyone that she knew. She normally ate with John or the research team but the former was meeting with Reginard, and the latter was finishing up the notes from the last session. Feeling tired of being left out and mostly ignored, she had decided to go eat, but heading to an empty table with her tray only made her feel worse.  
  
She had been working at IASA with John for over a monen now - it was February 2011 - and things hadn't gotten better. True, they weren't fighting for their lives every other day, they had food, and the kids were happy, but it wasn't anything like she had expected. She was still an outsider, an exposition they came up to so that they could say, "I talked to the alien."  
  
Around the room, she could feel their eyes on her like weights, waiting for any mistake. There were a few whispers here and there from those who resented her presence, a tentative smile from those who didn't. So far, nothing had happened - nothing overt anyway. An anonymous phone call, typed notes, stares and whispers, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.  
  
Sitting down, she supposed it wasn't all bad. She liked John's family for the most part, and her colleagues did try to start conversations with her. The problem was there wasn't much to talk about really. The "What's your planet like?" line died when she told them she grew up on a ship. She'd talked a little about being a pilot with the military contingent, but that conversation had been cut short by work and hadn't come up again.  
  
"Hey, there you are," Dan came up behind her and sat down. Kiwi Taylor, Captain Worthel, and Major Fanby joined them across the table with a clatter of trays. "You ran out of there in a hurry. Feeling all right?" Dan asked, concerned.  
  
Aeryn nodded, swallowing the last of her resentment. "Fine."  
  
"You sure? You seem a little down," said Kiwi, a small frown marring her forehead.   
  
She shrugged. "I wasn't being much help." No help at all, she added silently. She could do the tech work: fix the prowler, Moya, the pods, even John's module if she had to, but talking about adapting it to Earth's existing technology that she knew next to nothing about, without something concrete to look at, was next to impossible.  
  
"But you're a great help," Kiwi contradicted her. "We wouldn't understand any of this without you." Aeryn gave her a look that asked whether she was out of her mind. "Who else could have taught us your technology?" the New Zealander challenged.  
  
"John," she answered. It had been easier in the beginning when they were simply teaching the basics that didn't involve finding ways to make Earth equipment better. Aeryn simply felt...useless, and she hated it.  
  
"You know what you need?" Fanby told her. "You need to get out an do something fun this weekend. What have you been doing for fun since you've been here?" he asked.  
  
Startled by the question, Aeryn thought back over the last few weeks. She and John had been working pretty hard, spending most of their free time with Rhia and Seth. Once they had gone out to dinner, but the press had shown up and they'd cut the night short. After that, neither of them had had the urge to go out much. The park with the kids, a football game that Aeryn would never understand. Family and friends had come by, wanting to show them everything about the area, but it was hard to sneak out without an audience, despite the contract promising them privacy.  
  
"What do you like to do? What did you do on Moya in your free time?" Fanby pressed when she didn't answer right away.  
  
"Play with my children," Aeryn answered.  
  
"That's right. I keep forgetting you and John are married," Captain Worthel nodded.  
  
Fanby smiled. "And to get away from your kids?"  
  
"Work," Aeryn smiled, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied. "What do I do in my spare time - when I'm not with Rhia and Seth?" She nodded once to him to make sure she had the question right, and he grinned back. She looked over his head, thinking. "Work out, train. On Moya I'd clean my weapons and make sure my ship was functional -"  
  
"Your ship? Moya?" Dan interrupted curiously.  
  
"My Prowler," Aeryn shook her head. "One person fighter craft."  
  
"You said you were a pilot, but you never said you had your own ship. How come you never told us?" Kiwi said, accusingly. From the look on her face, she was both put out and slightly jealous.  
  
Aeryn shrugged. It hadn't seemed important at the time. And technically speaking it wasn't *hers*.  
  
"You flew in your military?" Dan asked, having not been a part of the earlier conversation.  
  
"The Peacekeepers, yes."  
  
"The Peacekeepers? But that's not Moya," Captain Worthel jumped on the new detail.  
  
"No. I was kicked out shortly after I met John. My captain declared me Irreversibly Contaminated by an unknown alien life form. John forced D'argo to take me with them on Moya, and I've been running with them ever since. We used my first Prowler to escape," she explained. She doubted they understood, but at least it was a topic of conversation that she could deal with.  
  
"So you left, just like that," said Fanby. "Your career gone in an instant. You didn't go to trial, or appeal or anything?"  
  
"There was nothing to appeal. My captain declared me Contaminated. I faced execution. The only thing I could do was run."  
  
"And you actually *joined* that kind of military?" Kiwi asked, incredulous. Her forkful of food lowered in surprise.  
  
"I was born into it." The sudden stares made Aeryn uncomfortable. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything after all. The Humans all looked at each other.  
  
"That's -"  
  
"Scary," Dan finished Fanby's sentence. "And dangerous."  
  
"Are they one of the reasons we're learning about defense systems?" asked Worthel to which Aeryn nodded. "Nice."  
  
"Look, there she is!" a voice across the room broke the silence the small group had fallen into. Aeryn turned and saw two of the Farscape project engineers, Jeff Leacore and Conrad Murphy, rushing over to their table. "Ms. Sun," Jeff called out as they approached. "Glad we found you. We've been running over the old data from when John disappeared, trying to fit it with our wormhole theory and we were wondering -"  
  
A jolt like ice stabbed through the ex peacekeeper. "Don't," she interrupted. Wormholes. It always came back to wormholes. Sudden images of torture, death, pain, screams of suffering, the faces of those who'd died because of wormholes, the ones she'd killed to prevent them. The Humans would open a door they wouldn't be able to close, and it would cost them their existence.  
  
"Pardon me?" said Jeff, confused.  
  
"Don't try to find wormholes," said Aeryn, standing suddenly to face him. "It will get you all killed. Excuse me. I have to find John." Find John so they could stop the research. She strode away, cold determination taking over as she left the table of confused and worried scientists.  
  
  
  
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Rhia was bouncing in her seat. She was so excited. She was in Grandpa's car with Seth, and they'd snuck out of the neighborhood without anyone seeing them! They were in disguise. Rhia wore a green cape and hat, and Seth had a jacket and glasses with a nose and mustache attached. Then they'd crouched down in the back seat and Grandpa had driven away.   
  
They were going to the zoo! Where they had *animals* that you didn't eat, just watched. She remembered Christmas when she hadn't known any of the stuffed animals, and Grandpa had promised then to take them to the zoo, and they were going. Rhia couldn't wait.  
  
The drive was kinda long, but finally they arrived and pulled into the big parking lot. It was mostly empty; Grandpa said it was because it was a winter school day, but there were still a handful of cars near the entrance. Once they were parked and Grandpa paid, they went in.  
  
Rhia thought she had stepped into yet another world. Right in front was a shallow pool with pink creatures walking around on stick like legs. "Those are flamingoes," said Grandpa. Rhia had never seen anything like them! And that was only the beginning. They saw everything: the seals and fish in the pools, fierce alligators, colorful birds, the big cats, the bears, the snakes...everything. And it was all wonderful!  
  
Her favorite though were the monkeys on their island with ropes and swings that they used to get around. "Look, look at them!" she shouted excitedly while they watched the small primates from the rail. "They're fighting over the food!" Two of the monkeys chattered angrily at each other, each one holding onto the end of a banana. Finally, the banana broke in two and they each leaped away, chattering and throwing angry looks at one another. "Look! Look!" she pointed to make sure Grandpa saw.  
  
"I see," he said.  
  
If Rhia could be any animal, she wanted to be a monkey because they could move by swinging from rope to rope. It looked so much better than walking!  
  
They spent the most time with the monkeys, but eventually moved on to the elephants and giraffes, which were huge and gentle. They even got to feed them! The elephant had a long nose called a trunk that reached out to take the grass she held. She felt the papery skin brush her hand and giggled.  
  
Rhia didn't notice the time go by, though her feet did start to hurt after lunch. She wished Grandpa would carry her and not Seth, but she didn't complain because he was little. Instead, they stopped more often to rest and ended up going back to the monkey island till the zoo closed.  
  
In the car on the way home, Rhia dreamed of swinging with them on the island.  
  
  
  
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John read the report calmly, the words registering on an objective level in his brain. Across from him, Regie waited quietly for him to look up. When he did, the diplomat's eyes studied him for a reaction.   
  
"So they think it's these 'In Jesus Name' people, with a little help from Washington, who shot at us on the runway?" he verified. Regie nodded. God, John hated religion! Caused nothing but trouble. He hadn't noticed it much before, but then, he hadn't been the Devil incarnate before either.  
  
"I know a guy up in Washington who's doing a little nosing around on his own," said Regie. "He'll let me know if he finds anything."  
  
"Let you know before or after they cover it up?" John retorted.   
  
"Landers isn't Nixon, John. He wants answers too."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Landers?" Regie's eyebrows shot up at the question.  
  
"No, the other one. Nixon?" John had never heard the name before, and judging from the way Regie was staring at him, he should have.  
  
"You don't know who he is? President Richard Nixon? Watergate? Early '70's?"  
  
Okay, thanks for making me feel like an idiot, thought John embarrassed. Another thing different and gone from his memory. He remembered the 1970's but no Nixon. "Forget it," he waved a dismissive hand. With the number of people who'd been through his head... "You said you wanted to see me about something else?"  
  
"Yeah." Regie still looked unsure of him - the loony-bin look, John thought annoyed - but nevertheless went on to the next item. "Washington is concerned about the progress you're making with your technology team."  
  
"Concerned about my progress," John repeated, not liking the sound of that.  
  
"They want to know how far you've come on new hybrid communication and defense systems, and want someone from your team to send them biweekly progress and assessment reports."  
  
"Who's 'they'? And what do they expect after a month?"  
  
Regie ignored his questions and went on. "Jeremy also asked me to pass this on to you," he handed John a sheet of paper. "It's from the University of Virginia asking for DNA samples from you and your family."  
  
Scanning over the formal letter, John felt sick. "The answer's 'no'. I gave at the door." Regie nodded with little surprise and handed him another sheet of paper and a pen. It was a formal refusal just waiting for his signature.  
  
Once done, John asked, "And the government? They don't want a piece of me yet?"  
  
"Presidential orders. You're more valuable for the technology than your blood at this point, and Landers prefers to work with positive reinforcement." Regie smiled humorlessly. "Better for his image."  
  
So the docs were all just waiting in line for the word from the top. Great. "As long as I give him better weapons and defenses, me and my family are safe."   
  
"If you don't like it, why did you come back?"   
  
Why? John didn't know anymore. He'd known this would happen, known for cycles what kind of welcome awaited him. But he and Aeryn had still come to get the kids away from the war, to tell his family he was alive, to give Earth a fighting chance against the Peacekeepers and Scarrans. "'Cause what's out there is worse," he sighed. And deep down he wanted it to work on Earth, needed it to. "So what's the big arms race on for anyway?" John asked, getting back on topic.  
  
"Have you turned on the news lately?" Regie asked back, tone bordering on sarcastic.   
  
Right, thought John. Terrorists. Speaking of... "Have you talked to Giller yet about tightening security at the house? More reporters are slipping through the woods like it's the Mexican border."  
  
"He tells me he's on it."  
  
Uh, huh. Sure. "Well, tell him, if he doesn't do something by tomorrow, I'll take care of it myself." John had had about enough of the sleaze balls snooping around. They'd been lucky so far that nothing had happened, but it was only a matter of time.   
  
"John, don't do anything stupid," the Ambassador cautioned him. "You do not want to antagonize him."  
  
"Too late."  
  
"I'm serious! He'll cause trouble for you."  
  
John looked at Regie, not saying anything for a minute. The other man was worried for him. It was no secret that he and Giller had never gotten along. "I don't advise that he mess with me either," John said, standing to go.  
  
"Just be careful." Regie stood as well and shook his hand before he left. John nodded, thankful for his concern. If things kept up in this direction, he'd need a friend on the inside.  
  
  
  
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"Filalla! Run!" D'argo jumped up and started firing over the crates that protected him from the Peacekeepers on the other side. He counted a good dozen scattered throughout the indoor market before dropping back behind his shelter. He could hear the locals screaming amongst the pulse fire. He didn't know where the others were, didn't know if Fil and Chiana had gotten away before the Peacekeepers had spotted them. Emmerit was around somewhere, hopefully tucked behind a wall more solid than D'argo's crate. He could smell it starting to smolder. That left Medri at the other end of the city, on his way to the pod. Hopefully.  
  
With a roar, D'argo jumped up again, aiming for the Peacekeepers he'd seen earlier, dropping two. On his right, a third one fell from what had to be Emmerit's gun. Unless there was a third party lurking around, but the old woman's distinctive yell banished that worrisome possibility. While she continued to fire, the Luxan used the cover to dash toward the building's exit. Alternating fire, he and Emmerit made it out in one piece only to be confronted by another unit closing in.  
  
"This way!" Emm shouted, ducking to the right. The two ran, dodging pedestrians and more rundown market stalls that didn't produce enough to have the right to sell inside. A blast of energy fire told them they had company. Taking refuge behind one of the larger shacks, he and Emmerit caught their breath.  
  
"Filalla," he activated his comm. "Chiana, you there?"  
  
"Bit...busy," Filalla answered. He was panting heavily.   
  
"D'argo, we have to move," said Emmerit, peeking around the corner of their shelter. Grunting he complied and, with a nod, laid down covering fire while she ran to the next shelter.  
  
"Medri! Where are you?!" he called, making his own dash for his life. The Peacekeepers were keeping their distance so far, but they had to get out of this alley and lose them.  
  
"I'm near the pod," came the crackling reply. "Patrol almost got me, but I slipped past them. Where are you?"  
  
"Coming!" The Luxan cut the conversation short. The next quarter arn passed in a blur of getting away from the Peacekeepers. Terrified, the locals kept getting in the way, panicking as the firefight cut through the city from the market to the public landing pads. D'argo only hoped the Peacekeepers hadn't taken them over yet.  
  
But they had. As soon as he and Emmerit tore into the square, they tore right back out down another alley.  
  
"What now?" Emmerit asked, trying to catch her breath.  
  
"I don't know." D'argo looked across the square where another squad of soldiers was waiting. "How did they know we'd be here?" he asked aloud. They hadn't run into any of their regular contacts since they'd entered the area. Their luck could be that bad, he supposed, but normally Pilot and Moya would have spotted them from orbit.  
  
"Pilot," he half whispered. "Pilot!" He turned to Emmerit. "Nothing." Either the comms weren't working or Moya had been captured.  
  
A sudden explosion from the hangar, made D'argo forget about the comms. A microt later, the familiar form of the transport pod launched into the air heading for the square. Both D'argo and Emmerit jumped up to get its attention, shouting into the nonfunctioning comms. Skidding to a stop in front of their hiding place, the stairs unfolded and the two scrambled up into safety.  
  
"What the frell happened?!" D'argo demanded as soon as he was in.  
  
"Where's Chiana?" Medri shouted back from the pilot's seat.  
  
"I don't know. What happened?"  
  
Medri shook his head. "Comms are out. I can't get Pilot. Did you see Chiana? Filalla?"  
  
"They're together. Near the market," D'argo took the copilot seat.  
  
"How did they find us?" asked Emmerit again of no one in particular.  
  
"We'll worry about that once we have Chiana and Fil!" Medri snapped, banking sharply. Another explosion rocked the air around them and suddenly the comms sputtered to life.  
  
"PILOT! D'ARGO! WHERE ARE YOU!?"   
  
"Filalla!" D'argo shouted. "We're coming! Where are *you*?"  
  
"Behind the dome! Hurry, Chi's blind!"  
  
"What!?" Medri's spots dropped another shade of yellow.   
  
It didn't take them long to get to the dome that dominated the city skyline. The Peacekeepers hadn't gotten back into the air yet, and from the lack of response form space, they hopefully didn't have back up. Medri was out of his chair almost before they landed, darting to the steps to help Filalla bring Chiana in.  
  
"She alright?! You okay?!" he heard the spotted man ask Chiana. Crew aboard, D'argo lost no time taking off.  
  
"I'm blind...again," Chiana whispered. "Medri?"  
  
"I'm right here."  
  
"Don't let go."  
  
D'argo powered up the engines to take them out of the atmosphere, where Moya was hopefully waiting for them. Once they were safe, they'd find out what went wrong, how the Peacekeepers had known this planet was on their course to the rendezvous with Crais. Hopefully.  
  
"I got you," Medri soothed Chiana.  
  
"Don't let go."  
  
  
  
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"We need to talk," was the first thing Aeryn said to him when he came into the kitchen. Looking at the blackened chicken and half frozen peas, John thought the first thing they needed to do was get Aeryn away from the food.  
  
"Yeah," John agreed absently. He poked one of the chicken breasts experimentally, but it was dead and fossilized. He had some things to tell her, too.  
  
"DK has a grant from the Department of Defense to study wormholes." That got his attention. John looked up from the chicken to his wife who couldn't look less like a meek Betty Crocker if she tried. She was in her leather pants, though her shirt was a blue cotton sleeveless. Her hair was braided out of her way, and the knife she was using to chop up tomatoes was held too professionally for comfort.  
  
"Wormholes," John repeated flatly. The word itself was a jinx, calling bad times to bite them in the ass.  
  
"He wants *your* input," Aeryn went on, the emphasis not lost on John. DK and half of IASA didn't think she had two brain cells to rub together. It was always, "John. Oh, and Aeryn, I guess."  
  
"Did he say what about exactly?" Aeryn continued to glare. "Right, stupid question."  
  
"We have to stop their research," she said.   
  
John nodded and looked away. "I know." He grabbed the pot of waiting peas and put them over high heat. Wormholes. John had thought they'd escaped them. At one point, he had spent his time searching for them, calling them, using them despite the danger. Then the war had come, and there had been no time or place safe enough. They'd worked to keep the ultimate weapon from everybody at whatever the cost - and it had cost them in blood.  
  
Now, the Humans wanted wormholes; the same government that wanted superior weapons and defenses against terrorism at whatever the cost, wanted wormholes. And if John didn't give them to them... Reginard's warning echoed in his mind.  
  
"Well, I have never seen a sadder pair of cooks." John jumped at his father's voice. Jack stood in the doorway, smiling apologetically.   
  
"Mama, Dad," Rhia and Seth rushed in. John scooped up the bundle of energy that attacked him with a cry of joy. Rhia giggled, and he forgot for a moment Aeryn's worrisome news. "We snuck to the zoo!" she declared proudly, a stuffed monkey clutched tightly in her little hand. "We wore a disguise and everything to get past the reporters!"  
  
"And you didn't get caught?" asked Aeryn with a hint of a smile.  
  
"No. An' no one rec'nized us," Seth shook his head. "See?" He put on a huge pair of Groucho glasses that practically fell off his face, making them laugh. Seth giggled too, enjoying the attention.  
  
"I'll finish getting dinner ready with John if you want to get them cleaned up," Jack offered to Aeryn, nodding to the wreck of a kitchen. It was no secret that she didn't like cooking that much. So she took the kids upstairs for a quick wash before supper, leaving John and his dad alone. They worked in silence: John pensively stirred the peas while Jack scrapped off the blackened skin of the poor chickens.   
  
After about ten minutes, Dad broke the silence. "You wanna talk about it?" John shook his head. He honestly didn't. "Son," Jack folded his arms, leaned against the counter, and waited until John looked at him. "I remember when my father came back from the War, he never talked about what happened. Never. And there are some periods in my life that I never want to revisit, even in memory. So I understand if you don't want to talk about it. But it might help."  
  
John kept stirring the peas. "Did DK tell you he's got a grant to study wormholes?" he finally asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"He does. He wants my help." John paused. "And I'm going to lie to him and say I know nothing."  
  
There was silence, and John didn't dare look up. Then, "why?" John almost sighed in relief at the absence of judgment in Dad's voice.  
  
"Wormholes," he said, looking at his father this time. Jack's face held no scorn of disapproval. "Wormholes are the Holy Grail. The Ultimate Weapon. Everyone wants them, everyone fights for them. And I'm the one that has them. I can't allow anyone else, no matter how good their intentions, to have that kind of power."  
  
"What can they do?"  
  
"Destroy whole suns, planets. Populations of billions." John took the peas off the burner.  
  
"That's a hell of a responsibility," Dad commented.  
  
"You know when you said I had to be my own kind of hero?" Jack nodded. "I get that." After straining and dumping them into a bowl, the peas were ready. He thought about where he'd been, the people who counted. "Out there... I wish you could see some of the things I've seen."   
  
Dad clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "When you're ready, I will," was all he said. "Now, shall we call in the troops?" he asked, gesturing at the food. Nodding, John smiled at his old man, feeling like another bridge had been rebuilt, stronger even than the first. It was getting easier, like they were sliding back into that groove Lisa had talked about. The funny thing was, now that his dad had given him the okay not to talk, he wanted to, or at least give him the letters so they could explain what was maybe too hard to say. Smiling at the thought, he followed Dad to the dining room with the peas.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 4: Into the Autoclave  
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DK sighed when another person walked through his office door. He was supposed to be getting paperwork done, but instead he was solving everyone else's problems. This time it was Jeff who came begging for his aid.  
  
"I know you said we needed only four more people to help us with the new wormhole project, but since the brass wants another military scientist on it, and IASA wants another two from overseas, and neither of them is willing to swap something, as the budget stands now, we're gonna have to redefine some of our objectives or..."  
  
"Pull up a chair," DK told his stressed friend. It had been two weeks since they'd received the grant, and since then they'd been nailing down the final divisions of manpower and resources. Due to the potential use of wormholes as a link between Earth and the universe, world governments wanted a hand in it, too.  
  
He and Jeff spent a good half hour going over the budget and personnel, pulling something together that would hopefully satisfy both them and the other parties involved without causing apoplectic shock. By the time DK finally got Jeff out the door, Yora was coming in with another cup of coffee for him and a request to get his ass down to the hangar so they could go over the Farscape III's backup thruster systems together.  
  
"DK, I know today's supposed to be an office day, but yesterday they replaced half the coolant system, so we gotta check this today before they put in the primaries," Yora told him reasonably. "They're already a week behind schedule."  
  
The engineer groaned and let his head hit the desk with a satisfying thud. "Give me an hour," he mumbled. "Can't you do it yourself?"  
  
"No, it's not as fun," said Yora. "I'll be back in sixty. And drink your coffee!"  
  
DK had two full minutes of peace before his next visitor, the infamous Aeryn Sun. She walked in without bothering to knock. "Do you have a location for your wormhole research yet?" she demanded without preamble.   
  
DK sighed and nodded. The alien had been cool towards him ever since she had found out he'd gotten the grant. At first she'd tried to get him to stop it all together, but even had he wanted to, it had already been too late. He had tried asking John about it, but had only received a similar reaction. At first he'd been heart broken that John hadn't known anything, and worse, wasn't even excited about the new project as DK had been sure he would be. But there wasn't much he could do about it except make the best of it. It wasn't like he and John had never disagreed before, but so soon after getting him back, it hurt more.  
  
"We got hold of one of the labs in the Braun building," he told her.  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"Two-sixteen. Why? I thought you were against the project."  
  
"I am." Then, just as suddenly as she had arrived, she left, leaving DK confused. If she didn't want the program to go forward, why did she want to know where it was? It didn't make sense. Oh, well, he was just glad she was gone. Over the last couple of weeks, things had been tense between them.  
  
Not one to dwell on what couldn't be helped, DK turned back to his inbox. Only to be interrupted again halfway through the first page of a supply request form by a rap on the doorframe.  
  
"Knock, knock, Sailor," a soft, feminine voice greeted him. He looked up in shock. Laurie Martin. DK couldn't believe it. A grin splitting his face, he jumped up around his desk to give the lady a hug.  
  
"Laurie! What are you doing here?" he demanded happily, thumping her on the back. "Last I heard you were on the USS Whatsit out in the Pacific."  
  
"I was in the neighborhood," she said coyly when he finally let her go. DK gave her a look, and she laughed. "Okay," she conceded, "I was transferred to Andrews just down the coast. So, like it or not, Sailor, I'm here to stay. Until I'm transferred again, of course," she laughed once more, clear and ringing. DK loved that about her, that she loved to laugh.   
  
"So what's a Navy Nurse like you doing in a space place like this?" he asked ushering her into a chair.   
  
"Gotta make sure you flyboys don't drown when you land in the water," Laurie answered, accepting the offer. DK cleared off another one by the side table and sat. "What?" she asked innocently at his look. "A girl can't come to see an old friend?"  
  
"A girl like you always kills two or three birds with one stone," DK grinned. "And I know I don't rate that high on the food chain."  
  
"DK, of course you do," she swatted his arm in mock disapproval. "Besides, it's classified, so it will have to do."   
  
He laughed, knowing better than to push her. "If you say so, DoctorNurse," DK saluted her playfully. Not only was Laurie a Major in the Naval Nursing Corps, but she had a PhD in Biochemistry as well.   
  
"I do," Laurie deadpanned. "Now, I want to know absolutely everything! And don't be shy! I know you were close to Crichton when he died or disappeared or whatever. You certainly cried enough on my shoulder to float a boat. So spill."  
  
DK watched as Laurie settled in with all the eagerness of a teenage girl gossiping about who's going with who. When she was ready with one de-shoed foot tucked up underneath her, he told her everything she'd missed while on the Pacific Ocean. Pent up frustrations with John's resistance to science and the wormhole project. The cheapness he felt with the Farscape project now that John and Aeryn had come back with the new technology, like his work for the last five years had been wasted - the guilt that went with the feeling. The tensions from his team who felt the same way, the difficulties with the press constantly around the building - he poured his heart onto his old friend's shoulder one more time, while she sat and patiently listened.   
  
"It's not that I don't want him back. I do, God knows I do. But he died, and I learned to live without him. Now I have to live with him again, but he's changed so much, I don't know where I stand with him anymore. I though he'd be pleased with the wormhole thing, you know, find out what knocked him to that other galaxy, and he just told me to drop it. Turns out he knows more than he's telling and he doesn't want anything to with them. And now, Aeryn comes in asking what lab we're in...I don't know what her problem is. John and I, we used to be able to talk about anything. Now we talk about stuff and hit a wall. It's been what? Four months? It's just so frustrating."  
  
"But it is getting better, right?" Laurie asked.  
  
DK sighed. "It was till this whole wormhole thing. John says that in the wrong hands, wormholes are weapons of the worst kind. It's like he doesn't trust me. Me! I've known him since we were toddlers, and he doesn't trust me enough to talk to me or do this project!"  
  
That's what hurt the most, that neither John nor Aeryn trusted him. It hurt like the hole in his heart he thought had healed. They were so suspicious of everyone, and he'd thought he was on the good guy list.  
  
"You know," said Laurie. "People keep on living even when they're away from home. You moved on, and he moved on. Things happen. Thing change 'em. I mean, I can remember when I first came home from Basic, my parents didn't get what I'd gone through. And I couldn't explain it to them. But we worked through it. It just takes time."  
  
"Somewhere I know that. Doesn't make it easier," DK sighed.  
  
Another knock on the door interrupted the comfortable silence they had fallen into, but it was only Yora for the backup systems inspection. After quickly introducing them, he and Laurie made their goodbyes.  
  
"I'll come by and see you later," she said, returning his hug.  
  
"Thanks for stopping by. Letting me cry in your ear," DK smiled.  
  
"Anytime, Sailor." With a last wave, Laurie headed to the right towards the elevators.  
  
Grabbing the relevant folder, DK left with Yora for the hangar in the other direction, feeling much better.  
  
  
  
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"Lewis!" the President shouted into the bustle of the anteroom. The crowd working overtime barely glanced up before ducking back into their work. Damn it! His aide's cell phone was off or dead or being finicky just to piss Landers off for the hell of it. "I want to see Lewis as soon as he sets foot in the building," he snapped at a nearby secretary. "And get me Locher on the phone." He stormed back into his office.  
  
Nearly yanking the drawer out of the desk, Landers pulled out his bottle of Excedrin and took two of the pills, willing himself to calm down. He had to be able to think clearly, not an easy feat when you'd just found out another twenty American service men had lost their lives in Pakistan. A new creative bomb launched at the USS Morrison that had been stationed near the port city Ormara. Landers picked up the phone again. "Tell Richard I need a statement," he said. Probably wasn't necessary, but it made him feel like he was doing something.  
  
The phone rang in the same instant that the door opened. Snatching up the apparatus, he waved Lewis to a seat. "Locher? What do you have for me?"  
  
The voice on the other end sounded harried but trying to hide it. "Mr. President, I understand the urgency of the situation, but I simply cannot make Crichton work faster. These things take time. The intellectual gap between -"  
  
"I don't want details," Landers cut him off. "Just give me results. Get them." He hung up and turned to Lewis who was seated in his customary chair. "Talk to me."  
  
"The time table for the new Defense program is still on schedule and at maximum. There is no way to move it up. The reports from IASA and Major Fanby show that getting and making some of the necessary materials for hybrid weapons will possibly slow down production, especially since Crichton has not yet shown much interest in detailing weapons."  
  
"Get him to."  
  
"Yes, sir," Lewis made a quick note on his Palm Pilot. "The USS Greer has reached the Morrison and started the evacuation. The Joint Chiefs will be ready for a meeting at five. The press is waiting for a statement. Richard just sent me a bulletin; it's almost ready. The press conference is at four. Mike should be able to handle it, but it would probably help if you put in an appearance. Oh, and on a side note, Representative Davis will probably get off on lack of intent."  
  
"What?" The sudden shift in direction had Landers unsure that he'd heard that right.  
  
"Davis. Alien assassination attempt. He claims that the 'donation' he made to In Jesus Name was never intended to be used for 'such a heinous act', I believe he put it. Judge will most likely fine him."  
  
"Just make sure Crichton doesn't get a hold of his address," Landers sighed. He had no doubt that the astronaut would go after the Congressman once he learned that the man ultimately responsible for his wounding his wife was getting off with a slap on the wrist. "And he's still resisting giving us weapons technology?"  
  
"With all due respect, sir, he's more concerned with protecting the planet from space. His last report said that even with the equivalent firepower on the ground, superior ships from orbit would either target cities from space or release a biologic agent to wipe out resistance. Then he basically told us to stop asking."  
  
  
"Do you believe him?"  
  
"Reginard does."  
  
Landers pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes. When had life been simple? he asked himself for the hundredth time that week. Well, he'd asked for the job of keeping the world in line.  
  
"What time is it?" he asked.  
  
"3:44," Lewis told him, glancing at his little device. He punched a few buttons then added, "Richard's on his way."  
  
Landers nodded. "Alright. Let's go. We'll finish this after the press conference."  
  
  
  
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Jack turned the page from one star chart to another, marveling at the number of them in John's notebooks. He smiled, reading again some of the names his son had given the stars, jumping from theme to theme like Mickey Mouse, *Cheers*, and football teams. And they all revolved around Aeryn. John certainly was a hopeless romantic.  
  
His son had only given him the tapes, the letters to him, and a few of the many notebooks sitting on the bookshelf. The rest he'd said should wait until he came home, so Jack hadn't pressed for more; it already meant a lot that John was willing to share this much with him. Listening and reading them made him ache for what John had gone through and created more questions about the missing times. Jack was almost afraid to know what had happened. In his letters he read about despair and joy, hatred and love, loss, insanity. It seemed like there were more bad times than good, and Jack's heart went out to him.  
  
Idly, he flipped through the letters one more time, a sentence here and there jumping out at him. "Scorpy's dead. Finally. The bastard had more lives than a demonic cat. -- I cut off his head, just to be sure. -- Dad, guess what?! You're a grandfather! Yep, Rhia Xala Sun. Pilot finally got his memory back and let me in to see them. -- She's so beautiful! -- I hate them so much for what they did to her. Pip is the last person who deserves to be used and manipulated like that." They went on, John's heart and soul poured onto the paper into an ear he never thought would hear.  
  
"Gran'pa! Gran'pa! Dere's a man a' the door!" Seth tore into the room at top speed as usual, managing not to trip over his feet for once. Jack put aside the notebook and followed Seth to the vestibule where Rhia was standing guard with a kitchen knife.  
  
"Rhia, go put that up," he told her. It unnerved him when she did things like that, prepared to defend Seth and the house from intruders.  
  
"But he's banging," she protested.  
  
"Go put the knife away," Jack repeated, steering her toward the kitchen. "Why don't you two stay there till I see what the man wants." The two went, looking over their shoulders nervously.  
  
Flipping the lock, Jack opened the door to find an angry Giller on the doorstep. The security man was dressed impeccably in a suit as usual but carried a waist-high signpost in his left hand.  
  
"Colonel Crichton," he greeted Jack. "Is the Commander in?" The polite tone did little to hide the dislike behind the words.  
  
"No," said Jack flatly. "What do you want?"  
  
Giller turned the signpost so he could see its face. Bright red letters proclaimed across the top "Final Warning." Just below was a blown up picture of Mark lying on the ground, bleeding and theatrically dead. He wore a press pass. Beneath was written "Keep Out."   
  
"Tell Crichton, I'll have a warrant for his arrest if he threatens the media again."   
  
"Over my dead body."  
  
"Tell him." Giller dropped the sign and left, walking briskly to his black government car.  
  
Jack shook his head as he picked up the sign. So that's why things had calmed down around here, he thought. Pretty effective since his son had the reputation to back it up. He took the sign inside, closed, and locked the door.  
  
"Will Dad be executed if he's arrested?"   
  
Jack looked up, startled to see Rhia and Seth staring at him, eyes wide in fear. Surprised, he shook his head. "No, sweetie. You can't sentence someone to death for threats. Besides, there's no way he could even be convicted. Giller's just trying to scare us," he said reassuringly. The kids didn't look convinced.  
  
"Come on, let's go read a story," he suggested. That usually took their minds off things. He'd been amazed that they hadn't taken to the television, though they did like *Sesame Street* from time to time. For the rest, they didn't have the attention span.  
  
So, still apprehensive, the children followed Jack to the living room and settled down to listen to The Little Cargo Hauler That Could.  
  
  
  
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"And this brings us to the fine tradition of embarrassing the birthday girl," Mark explained to Aeryn. "Since Ryan can't do it 'cause he's the husband, it's up to me and the boys to do our sacred duty." He paused theatrically, resting the tips of his fingers on his collarbone like a noble lord. And Aeryn actually laughed. It was the first time Ryan had heard the sound from her. At Christmas she had been, understandably, reserved, and hadn't participated much beyond watching the kids. Now, mid February, she seemed to have adjusted to Earth.  
  
It was Melanie's fortieth birthday party, and the Crichtons could not pass up the opportunity to get together. Ryan sat with Aeryn, Mark, Robert, and Ben in the living room with several of his and Melanie's close friends. Mark had pulled out the pictures specially prepared for the event. Aeryn's induction to family gatherings was his excuse to embarrass his sister in-law.   
  
"Now," Mark looked up at his audience, "we begin our story forty long, dark years ago -"  
  
"Wait!" Lisa rushed in, pulling Melanie by the arm, followed closely by John, Jack, and a few other friends who had been helping them out on the grill. Amid shouts and cheers, Melanie was forced to take the place of honor in the overstuffed armchair. The rest of the guests piled in, pulling up the extra chairs and even sitting on the floor, though with David, Rhia, and Seth running around wild, it was a little dangerous.  
  
"We begin our story," Mark said again, louder this time to get everyone's attention, "forty *long*, *terrible*, *dark* years ago." More cheers rose. "With the birth, that fateful February morning of the last Crichton child, baby Melanie." Mark held up the first photo of a baby in a pink blanket, enlarged for the purpose of being passed around. From there, Mark wove a tale of growing up, from one picture to the next, most of them the most embarrassing ones he could find - and Ryan should know since he had helped pick them out. Ryan let the familiar stories wash over him for the hundredth time, enjoying the laughter and friendship that pulsed through the room.  
  
"And then came that event that all young girls anxiously await: the first training bra!" The picture Mark held up was of a lump: a vaguely girl shaped figure covered by a towel.  
  
"Oh, come on," Melanie protested amid the laughter. "Who was not embarrassed?" she demanded.  
  
"You have to train to have breasts?" Aeryn asked, studying the picture with a smile.   
  
"No, a training bra is just one that's made for girls that's smaller than normal," Lisa explained.  
  
"I can understand why you hid your face then," Aeryn looked at Mel with a wicked grin.   
  
The story continued on to junior high dances, high school boyfriends - and John checking them out, college and beyond, glazing over the painful times of Leslie's death, Steven Whirel, and John's Farscape accident. Melanie made it through these latter years her relatively unscathed in comparison to her youth, until finally, "The crowning achievement, one of the *best* Christmas dinners I have ever eaten," Mark announced with conviction with the picture of the recent Christmas spread. "Thank God, Lisa cooked most of it!"  
  
"Why you -" Melanie screeched, throwing a cushion at him. Sensing an imminent fight, Ryan quickly got to his feet.  
  
"To Melanie Rebecca Crichton Phillipson," he raised his beer. "The most wonderful woman in the world. Happy birthday!"  
  
"To Melanie," the rest echoed. Ryan sidled up to the woman he loved and gave her a chaste kiss. There were more cheers and chinks, then the group settled into smaller groups, dodging kids and forgotten cups. The burger contingent went back out to the grill, and Ryan wormed himself a spot on the couch between Aeryn and Robert who had found a photo album.  
  
"So, ready for your birthday?" he asked his newest sister in-law cheerfully.   
  
Aeryn smiled at him and said, "Good thing I don't know when it is."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll make one up for you. Get John to tell us all your embarrassing stories," he said, reassuringly. Aeryn only smiled serenely at him.  
  
"So what are birthday parties like on your planet?" asked Robert eagerly, though he tried to be casual about it.   
  
However, before she could answer, John called out, "Aeryn, could you give me a hand?"  
  
Smiling an, "excuse me," she got up and left. Ryan watched her go.  
  
"What do you need?" she asked when she reached John in the doorway, still close enough for them to overhear.  
  
"Just your hand," he answered, reaching down and pulling it to his lips.  
  
"Is this another one of your Earth customs?" she asked, pleased.  
  
"Just thought you might want a change in conversation. Come on. Maybe Melanie will talk to me with you around." He pulled her away to the dining room. Deciding he needed another beer, Ryan followed. Okay, so he was curious and a little worried. After the last time Mel had gone one-on-one with her brother... Ryan thought a little nearby damage control wouldn't hurt.  
  
Melanie was talking with Lisa by the china cabinet when they approached somewhat nervously. "Happy birthday, Mel," John said by way of greeting. "Finally joined the rest of us over the hill."  
  
Melanie didn't answer right away, and at first, Ryan was afraid she wasn't going to answer at all. But she did. "Thank you, John, and Aeryn," she said.   
  
"Mel..." John went on but didn't seem to remember how. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."   
  
"Yeah, well." Ryan saw her nod and look away as she always did when she didn't want to say something but was going to anyway. "I don't know whether to hate you or love you," she told him.  
  
"You never could choose between anything," John replied fondly. "Remember the sweaters? And the car? God, I swore off shopping with you forever."  
  
Despite herself, Melanie smiled. "I think I'll go with hating you, mister." But Ryan could tell she didn't mean it, not really. "*So*, Aeryn," Mel pointedly ignored John, linking her sister-in-law's arm with hers. "Let's have a chat about John. Just the juicy bits."  
  
"That sounds like fun," said Lisa, taking Aeryn's other arm. The black haired woman grinned evilly.  
  
"I do have to catch you up for his birthday," she said with a sly glance over her shoulder at her husband.  
  
"Oh, man," said John as Ryan joined him, handing him a fresh beer. "Now I'm in trouble." Watching the three ladies leave, heads together, Ryan could only agree.  
  
  
  
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He had just hung up the phone with Washington when his new charges walked in the door: a black suit and two Navy dress uniforms. Reginard was not looking forward to this. "Dr. McPhearson, I presume?" he stood holding out his hand.  
  
The man in the suit shook it. "Ambassador Reginard." He didn't smile. "May I present Colonel Walter Sarratt and Major Laurie Martin, Navy Medicine." Reginard shook both their hands. "I trust you have received our orders?"  
  
"Uh, yes. I was just going over them. Please, sit down." Reginard moved back behind his desk while his visitors made themselves comfortable. "As I understand it, the facilities at Andrews are the best for your research and that's why the Navy is in charge of this project?"  
  
"*I* am in charge of this project," McPhearson clarified.  
  
"I see." Reginard looked back at the orders, which were infinitely more comfortable to look at than the good doctor. "You are aware that our contract with Crichton prohibits any and all medical testing?"  
  
"At this stage we do not require medical testing. We simply need to interview Crichton and the alien. One of his reports specified the threat of biological and chemical warfare. When medical testing becomes necessary, I would think that the greater good that would come from our investigating the aliens' DNA would outweigh a simple contract."  
  
He said it with such calm that Reginard almost shivered. "You haven't met Crichton, have you?"  
  
If anything McPhearson's gaze became colder. "Coming here was just a formality. You will give us your full cooperation, Ambassador." He paused and the silence felt like lead. "Now," the doctor continued. "I need to speak with a Dr. Amelia Hargrove. I want to do the preliminary interviews today."  
  
McPhearson stood, Sarratt and Martin following him out the door. Reginard thought he saw a look of sympathy from the Major, but shook it away. Anyone who worked with that bastard... Reginard didn't know what he was going to do. This was bordering on a direct breach of the contract, and Crichton would never stand for it, that much he was sure of. But it looked like the boys up top were getting desperate, if the operation was even sanctioned at all. Glancing over their papers one more time, Reginard didn't know. He picked up his phone to call his superiors, but before he had dialed two numbers, the PA announced, "Ambassador Reginard, please report to the Control Room. Ambassador Reginard."  
  
Within five minutes, he came running in only to stop short when he saw the screen. Moya had returned.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 5: Morose Code  
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"No, I want to talk to John alone," D'argo repeated. Why couldn't they get their heads around that?  
  
"I'm afraid that's not possible," the Human Reginard replied. "We have very strict protocols that govern extraplanatary contact. Until you state the nature of your visit, I'm afraid I can't allow Commander Crichton to speak with you."  
  
"I want to talk to Crichton! That is the nature of our visit!" D'argo shouted. "Does he even know we're here?"  
  
Reginard shook his head. "I'm very sorry. If I could change the rules, I would but my hands are tied."  
  
"Ka D'argo," Pilot interrupted.  
  
"Yes, Pilot?" D'argo slammed a frustrated hand on the consul, cutting Earth off.  
  
"I have reached Rhia on the comms."  
  
D'argo sighed in relief. "Thank you." It's what they had tried first, but no answer had come back. Then Earth, recognizing them on their scans had contacted them wanting to talk. Why did Humans always want to talk? he asked himself. "Rhia? Is that you?"  
  
"D'argo?!" the child's voice was filled with excitement. "You're here?"  
  
The Luxan smiled, mirrored by Emmerit and Rygel who were in Command with him. "Yes. Is John there?"  
  
"He's at work. They're always at work, but the men come when they don't go," Rhia informed them sadly. "We had Christmas!"  
  
"That's wonderful, Rhia," D'argo said, though he didn't know what Christmas was. "Is there any way you can contact John for me? It's important."  
  
"I'll ask Grandpa," she said. "Grandpa! Can I call Mama and Dad?" they heard her shout. In the background another voice spoke, but it was too distant to understand. "It's important." The voice spoke again. "D'argo? Can I tell him it's you?"  
  
"Ah..." He might take the comm away from Rhia and then they'd never get John or Aeryn. On the other hand, without Jack, Rhia might not be able to get John at all. He was about to ask what the others thought when Rhia spoke again.  
  
"I'll get Seth to play with him. Then he won't notice."  
  
"Sounds like Rhia has a plan," commented Emmerit with a smile.   
  
"She was always a clever girl," Rygel added smugly as if he were her father. D'argo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
A few microts later, Rhia came back. "Can I talk to my Mama or Dad?" A pause. "It's her daughter...Mama?...D'argo wants to talk to you...He's on your comm." A scrapping noise followed then, "D'argo?"   
  
"Aeryn." The relief he felt at hearing her voice was palpable.  
  
"D'argo? Rhia, push the speaker button." A sharp sound screeched over the comm making the crew wince.  
  
"Aeryn?"  
  
"D'argo? Where are you?"  
  
"Earth orbit. They wouldn't let us talk to you."  
  
"Those frelling -"  
  
It was definitely Aeryn on the other end of whatever communication device Rhia had hooked them up with. "We need to talk to you."  
  
"But your Humans won't let us," Rygel finished.  
  
"They're paranoid," said Aeryn quietly. "It's like living with a hundred Starks."  
  
"Are you alone?" asked D'argo.  
  
"No. And they think I'm talking to Rhia, but it's all right. Only two of them have microbes and they're too far away to hear."   
  
"Where's John?"   
  
"Meeting. Probably off fighting someone who wants to make useless weapons. They want to use what we have to kill each other. They don't care about improving their space fleet."  
  
"Look Aeryn, we need to talk to both of you."  
  
"As soon as possible," Emmerit added. "Talyn and Crais are missing."  
  
"Among other things," muttered Rygel.  
  
There was silence on the other end. "Rhia," Aeryn finally said. "I want you to tell Grandpa Jack what's happening and get him to take you and Seth to his house, all right? And don't forget the comm. D'argo, I'll contact you as soon as it's safe. I have to go. Good to hear your voice." There was another sound then it cut off.  
  
"D'argo?" asked Rhia. "What's happening?"  
  
"Rhia, go with your grandfather somewhere safe. We'll see you soon," D'argo said. He disconnected and turned to the others. Chiana, Jool, and Medri had joined them, all looking concerned. "She sounded tense," he observed.  
  
"Do you think they're okay?" asked Chiana.  
  
"I hope so," D'argo sighed. They were supposed to be safe down there, and it didn't sound like anything had happened, but the tone of Aeryn's voice made him uneasy.   
  
  
  
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"Everything all right at home?" Dan asked when she hung up.  
  
Aeryn shook her head. She had to talk to D'argo and in order to do that, she needed to get to the house. "I need to go," she told them at large, switching back to English.  
  
"What's wrong?" Kiwi asked for the group, the concern showing on her face. The others as well seemed worried for her.  
  
"It's..." What could Aeryn say to get them to let her go without a fuss? Gathering up her things, she said the first thing that came to her mind. "It's nothing serious, but Seth fell and they need me. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Aeryn left before they could say anything more. She barely noticed the halls, her mind occupied by the phone call. Moya was here and no one had told them. Why? Why would the Humans hide it? Was it about power and control again? And more importantly, why had Moya come back? It was a terrible risk; D'argo knew that. They had planned to stay on Earth for at least two cycles maybe more without contact from Moya. Talyn and Crais missing. Four words that chilled her to the bone. Something was seriously wrong if a powerful warship and a knowledgeable ex Peacekeeper captain were missing in action - 'among other things'. She had to find out what.  
  
When she reached the administration building, Aeryn decided to take a detour and get John. He would need to hear this too, and it couldn't wait. The elevator took too long, so Aeryn ran up the stairs to the second floor. In the conference room at the end of the hall, Aeryn found her husband staring stonily at Giller and a man she had never seen before.  
  
"John." She strode into the room like she owned it, customs be damned. "I just got a call from Rhia," she said in Sebacean. "She said her godparents are here for an unexpected visit."  
  
"Ms. Sun, this is a private meeting, and you will speak English!" Giller jumped to his feet, but Aeryn paid him no mind.  
  
"They want to talk to us right away. Talyn and Crais are missing," she continued.   
  
John's face barely twitched as he got to his feet. "Frell."  
  
"We are not finished here," Giller protested but they ignored him, not even bothering with the explanation she'd given Dan.  
  
"We are now," John told him. He moved to go around the security chief, but Giller stepped back into his path. "I do not have time for this Giller," said John coldly.  
  
"I don't think you understand your position here, Crichton," Giller responded nastily. Aeryn had had enough and yanked Giller out of the way from behind. She didn't quite knock him out, not that she cared. The other man looked slightly taken aback but made no move to stop them. Leaving Giller sprawled on the floor, she and John headed for the parking lot.  
  
  
  
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"So they're at Dad's?" asked John when Aeryn had finished filling him in on what she knew. She nodded in reply, staring intently at the road before them. The ride didn't take long, especially since Dad's place was closer than theirs. It was a good idea of Aeryn's to get them there, not only for the distance reasons but the reporter ones as well. The sign had helped, but there were always a few die-hards lurking around. Neither of them spoke much, both absorbed in the same thoughts of 'why'. Why were they here? And why hadn't they been told?  
  
The front of the house was dark as if nobody were home. John shut off the engine, and he and Aeryn went to the door where Dad was waiting for them.  
  
"Rhia says Moya's back?" was the first thing he said.  
  
"Yes," said Aeryn as they entered the house. "They contacted her on the comm. We need to talk to them right away."  
  
"Of course. I think Rhia still has it." They went to the living room where the kids were playing with blocks on the floor. Both of them jumped up and ran to their parents as soon as they saw them come in.  
  
"Up!" Seth ordered. John gathered his son into his arms and hugged him close. Meanwhile, Aeryn had accepted the comm from Rhia.   
  
"D'argo, Pilot? It's Aeryn. Are you there?"  
  
"Aeryn!" came the Luxan's voice, loud and relieved. "Is everything alright?"  
  
"Yes, we can talk now. John's here."  
  
"Hey, D. Heard you were in the neighborhood. What's up?"  
  
They heard D'argo sigh and in the background, several others talking one on top of the other until the Luxan told them to shut the frell up. It was nice to hear that some things hadn't changed, John thought with a smile.   
  
But the feeling of warmth at hearing his friends' voices gave way to the clenching of his gut when D'argo spoke again. "We told you Talyn and Crais are missing. We were heading to the rendezvous, and when we stopped for supplies on the way, a Peacekeeper squadron ambushed us. They didn't have backup, so we think they'd been lying in wait. We had another close encounter several days later, then when we reached the rendezvous, no Talyn, no Crais. Fil and I went out to check the message drops but nothing."  
  
"So you think they were captured?" asked Aeryn.  
  
"And interrogated," Rygel finished from the other end.   
  
"And that's not all," Medri picked up the narration, his voice a little less clear. "We went to Colony space to see if their spies or the Alliance had any information. Kitall, one of their outlying planets had been taken over by the Peacekeepers."  
  
"We regrouped with Martya and her crew in the nebula beyond the Riders' territory," D'argo resumed. "They'd picked up some of the lucky ones who said it was only the beginning. The Peacekeepers want the whole system."  
  
John heard the words but they hadn't sunk in yet, and he didn't want them to. The Breakaway Colonies were one of the strongest forces against both the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans. "The Royal Planet?" he asked.  
  
"No word."  
  
John looked at Aeryn, sitting beside him on his father's couch, elbows on her knees. When she glanced at him, he saw what he felt: the need to go and help. They couldn't ignore this. It was Talyn, the ship they'd helped raise, and Crais who, while John disliked him on principle, was still a friend and ally. Not to mention the threat to the Royal Planet. They couldn't let it fall. If they did, then any hope of surviving this war intact was virtually nil.   
  
Eyes still locked on Aeryn's, John said, "We'll need a couple of days to get everything in order."  
  
"Don't take too long." The comm went out.  
  
The room was silent. In his armchair, Dad said nothing, his face unreadable. Rhia was staring at them wide-eyed, old enough to get the basics of D'argo's news and scared by it. Aeryn was looking at her hands, thinking. In his lap, Seth shifted so he could look John in the eye. "Are we goin' home?" he asked.  
  
John looked into his son's hopeful face, chubby and innocent. Clear, certain eyes stared back, cutting through the turmoil in John's own mind. Home. Moya and the Uncharted Territories where someone was always trying to kill them. Was that it? Where he had met Aeryn and D'argo and Rygel and Chiana and lived and died and made a difference in however an insignificant way?  
  
Thinking back to that meeting with Giller and the doctor, over the last few months, it was clear. On Earth, he was just as suspected, badgered, and threatened. On Earth, he didn't sleep well at night. He'd felt it everyday in every conversation that fell flat, every look he got from across the room, and every feeling of distrust he'd had for strangers since they'd returned. He hadn't wanted to admit it; he'd told himself that he would adjust. But now that Seth had put it into words, he couldn't ignore it. He no longer belonged on Earth.  
  
He remembered telling Dad that he had figured out what it meant to be his own kind of hero. And it was out there, fighting.  
  
He looked at his father, noticing the wrinkles again as if for the first time. "Dad..."  
  
"You have to leave," his father finished with a sad smile. John thought he saw a glimmer in his eye, but then it was gone.  
  
"It's Talyn," John felt the need to explain. He wanted him to understand that he wasn't just abandoning him.   
  
"Moya's son. And on the Royal Planet, you have an unborn daughter. A princess," Jack finished again. John nodded, feeling the old understanding flow between them, unbarred and strong. He didn't need to explain because Dad already understood. "What do you need me to do?"  
  
"If you could watch the kids while we make plans," Aeryn gestured to the two who were listening with rapt attention. "Thank you, Jack."  
  
"I wanna help!" wailed Rhia.  
  
"Me too!" Seth added, hitting John's arm to get his attention. John's mind, already running over the problems they would face getting off the planet, reigned itself in. How could they help without being in danger or daring to go after it?  
  
"Okay, listen close," he said motioning Rhia to come over. "I want you two to make a list of all your things that you want to take back to Moya and write where they are at the house, so when we go, we can pack quickly." Excited by the assignment, Rhia and Seth both nodded before running off to find paper.  
  
"That should keep them occupied," said Aeryn, watching them go.   
  
"So what do you need to do before you leave?" asked Jack.  
  
John looked at Aeryn. "Talk to Dan and Reginard. Get them plans of the systems they need to build."  
  
"Take care of the wormhole research."  
  
"Steal my module back."  
  
"Get our things out of the house without being stopped," they threw suggestions back and forth.  
  
"I can help at the house," Dad told them. He wasn't going to try and stop them - John almost couldn't believe it.   
  
"All right," he said, standing. "We're gonna need some paper."  
  
  
  
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He knocked on the side of the door hesitantly, wondering what had possessed him to volunteer to tell her. Sure, things were better than they had been but it still wasn't the same.  
  
"Yeah?" Chiana asked from the inside. Willing his spots not to give him away, Medri opened the door.  
  
"Uh, hi." She waited and didn't look away. Taking that as an invitation to continue, he did so. "Aeryn and John just commed back," he said. "We're going to pick them up tomorrow."  
  
Chiana nodded and even made a space for him on the bed. She was sorting through what looked like junk to him but what doubtless had meaning for her. Essor was nowhere to be seen, but that was only normal. Medri sat down somewhat gingerly.  
  
"So what's the plan?" she asked.  
  
"They're going to steal the module and sneak out. Meet John's father with the children."  
  
"They'll need a backup plan," the Nebari smiled wanly.  
  
"Yeah." Medri agreed. She had recovered from her temporary blindness, but still looked a little worse for wear. "Are you, you know, okay?" he asked.  
  
"Sure. No." Chiana smiled at her own correction but didn't elaborate. She turned back to her sorting, and Medri watched her toss the pieces into seemingly random piles.  
  
"Okay," he finally said, at a loss. "It's almost mealtime. I better..." he stood up and watched her sort a few more pieces. Just ask, he told himself. "You wanna come with me?"  
  
She looked up, surprised, but in the end she nodded. Chiana grabbed a box from the floor on the other side of the bed and swept the junk back into it. She would have to resort it, thought Medri. But she didn't seem to mind.  
  
  
  
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Aeryn blinked her eyes hard, tired yet too wired to sleep. It was late. Jack had already gone to bed, leaving her and John still working on plans. John was writing furiously, open notebooks guiding and giving him ideas. He looked tired. "Hey, are you all right?" she asked him.  
  
John stopped writing and rubbed his eyes with the hand that held the pen. "I think if I do this," he gestured to the table, "I don't have to think about it." He looked up at her. "It's not working." He sighed. "I'm going to miss them."  
  
Aeryn understood. So would she. "I am glad we came," she said.  
  
"But...?" John said with a teasing smile.  
  
"But I'm also glad Moya came back early."  
  
John waited a beat then said, "Me too."  
  
Aeryn raised her eyebrows in surprise. For as long as she'd known him, coming back to Earth had been his dream, even when he was willing to give it all up for her. She didn't think he would give it up so easily.   
  
He smiled this time for her. "You think I'm crazy, maybe I am. But Seth was right. Moya's home."  
  
"And your family?"  
  
"I'll always love them. And now they know I'm alright." He shrugged and got up to get another cup of coffee. His body said it wasn't as easy as he made it sound.  
  
But Aeryn didn't press. "Good thing we haven't told them how many times you've died." She passed him her mug, and with a snort, he filled it for her.  
  
"If we'd done that then we'd never be leaving," he said, sitting down again. "But that's part of it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That they'll never understand."   
  
Aeryn nodded. She understood that, too. Coming here for him was like going back to the command carrier for her. Everything the same except them.  
  
John looked at the table spread before him. "I think you need to pull up a chair if we're gonna get this done by eight." Vaguely, he waved his coffee at the mess of papers. Aeryn grabbed a pencil while John took one last sip before setting his mug down. He had just begun to write again when she asked:  
  
"Are you really okay?"  
  
John looked up, surprised by the question, but then he nodded. "Yeah. We have family out there too."  
  
Satisfied, Aeryn took his hand and squeezed it. Then they got to work.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 6: Adieu, Adieu, To Yieu, and Yieu, and Yieu  
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"Here." John handed him a steaming cup of coffee when he walked into the kitchen. His son's clothes were rumpled, and he looked like he had stayed up all night. If the sea of paper on the table was anything to go by, he'd gotten his diagrams for Earth's defense done.   
  
Jack accepted the cup and sat down at the table careful to avoid spilling. The events of the day before were high in his mind. With luck, John, Aeryn, Rhia, and Seth would be leaving today. He still couldn't believe he was letting them go so easily and so quickly. But they insisted they had to go as soon as possible. Lives were at stake. It was the right thing to do. "I guess we're going to the house first?" he asked.   
  
John looked up from whatever he was drawing. "You and the kids. Aeryn and I have to stop at Ace Hardware for some things. We'll meet at Mel's."  
  
"They know we're coming?"  
  
"Frell! I knew I'd forgotten something!" John leaped to his feet and grabbed the phone, nearly overturning half his papers.  
  
While John called, Jack decided to get some toast. Passing the door that led into the living room, he saw Aeryn asleep on the couch, also in her clothes from the day before. He'd had them what? Four months? Too short a time. Nevertheless, he understood, and that was why he wouldn't stop them, he reminded himself.  
  
Not long after John warned the girls that their presence was required at Melanie's house around seven thirty, the rest of the house woke up. Yawning, Aeryn came in and fixed the kids Fruit Loops, while John pulled his stuff together. By quarter till, he and the children were on their way across town.  
  
As he drove, Jack took particular notice of the land around them. Canaveral. Florida. Earth. He'd spent his entire life on this one planet, save for one exceptional week when he had gone to the moon. John had been on hundreds, lived in space on a ship, and was going back. It boggled the mind. At least this time they had a chance to say goodbye.  
  
No one challenged them when they reached the house. There were no reporters in the bushes, and the security people across the street were probably still asleep. Rhia and Seth were surprisingly helpful in gathering their things, and it didn't take them as long as he thought it would to fill the bags and then some. They took most of the books and toys, but left half of the clothes. John had told him to leave most of theirs as well, since they probably wouldn't wear them out there. As he packed them up, it hit Jack again that they were really leaving.  
  
Rhia and Seth seemed to have no problems saying goodbye to their house, and Jack didn't say anything about it. Seth patted the doorstep and Rhia waved, but that was it. They were little after all, and the house with its constant intrusions had probably not been a real home to them.  
  
Bags in the car, they pulled out of the dozing neighborhood. A few people were out getting their newspapers, any interest in the alien occupants of 451 long gone. As soon would be its occupants.  
  
  
  
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As soon as Ryan opened the door, Melanie pounced. "What the hell is going on?!" she shouted at the man standing on their doorstep. Mark, Lisa, DK, who'd also been called, and all the kids crept out of the kitchen, wary of another fight.  
  
Still on the threshold, John stared at Melanie, Aeryn standing unsmiling just behind his shoulder. "We're leaving. Can we come in?"  
  
Ryan felt his jaw drop and, after a second, quickly snapped it closed. Taking his silence as a yes, John entered with Aeryn.  
  
"I know it's abrupt, but Moya's here, and they need us to go with them. We'll be gone by tonight." John led the way into the living room. Everyone, stunned, followed.  
  
"But why?" asked Ryan. He thought they had come here to get away from a war in that other galaxy. Why would they go back?   
  
"The Peacekeepers have attacked a system of planets that cannot be allowed to fall if we are going to survive the war," said Aeryn, looking him in the eye.  
  
"Is that really the reason or are you just running away from all your problems here?" DK demanded, too worked up to sit. Instead he stood, arms crossed belligerently across his chest. Ryan glanced at Melanie who was glaring at her brother. "I didn't hear anything about Moya being back."  
  
"Neither did we," John told him, meeting his gaze. "That's why they contacted us on our comms." He held up a piece of gold. "Hey, Pilot, you still there?"  
  
And to Ryan's utter surprise a voice, that in no way, shape, or form could be Human, answered. DK obviously recognized it because his arms dropped and he sat down.  
  
"They didn't tell you?" he asked.  
  
"So you're just going?" asked Mel, accusation in every part of her body.   
  
John looked away.   
  
"I'm sorry, Melanie, but we have to go," said Aeryn.  
  
"It's a good excuse to run away, isn't it?" Mel retorted bitterly. "I know it's not easy here for you, but you could at least stick it out. What good would you do against this army anyway?!"  
  
"Damnit! What good am I doing here?!" John snapped. "The government doesn't want special defenses; they're about ready to lock us up and throw away the key! As to what good I could do out there, a lot more than I can do from here!"  
  
"We're not asking your permission to go," Aeryn added quietly.  
  
Silence reigned as they all looked at each other.  
  
"We don't belong here," John finally said, taking his own turn in studying the carpet. "I don't belong here. I've changed so much that I don't know how... how to live here anymore. Maybe I needed to come back to see that."  
  
No one knew what to say. But in the end, it wasn't words that were needed when Lisa got up and pulled John into a hug. There were tears on her cheeks, Ryan noticed, and seeing them, he felt his own chest clench.  
  
"Don't go," she whispered over his shoulder.  
  
"We have to."  
  
"Then you'll come back, won't you?"   
  
"Promise."  
  
Lisa held him tight for a long while. Ryan couldn't believe it was happening so fast. Like a lightening strike, the world, or should he say universe, was changing again. When Lisa finally let him go, John laid it out: the missing friends, the occupied planet, the threat to the system, his unborn daughter. It was more than Ryan had ever heard him say about his previous life. Maybe it was because they were going that he felt he had to tell. It was almost eight thirty, time to head to work, when he and Aeryn finished. One more time, they were passed around for hugs.  
  
Melanie was the last to give her blessing. She held back, staring at the carpet. Ryan was concerned. She had just gotten over having him back, and now he was going again. He didn't know if the explanation had helped or made it worse. Finally she stood and faced John. "You know I love you, right?" she asked, her voice cracking.  
  
John hugged her and she clung to him crying in earnest now. "Yes." When they pulled apart, she turned to Aeryn.  
  
"Take care of him," she said, giving her sister-in-law a hug as well.  
  
"Always."  
  
With one final goodbye, they left.  
  
  
  
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Dan knew something was going on from the second, John handed him the papers. "Here," the former astronaut told him.   
  
"What's this?" he asked, looking at the top sketch.  
  
"Plans for the defense systems. It's probably not complete, but you should be able to figure out the rest."  
  
"Where will you be?" asked Major Fanby. Dell looked critically at the pair.   
  
Aeryn and John swapped a look, then John said. "We're running off to Vegas. You know, Aeryn's never been. It'll be fun."  
  
Their clothes were the same ones they had been wearing the day before, Dan noticed. "John, what's going on?" he demanded, setting the designs on the table behind him. Half of them slid to the floor, but he didn't care. John looked like he was about to lie again, his eyes distant and unwelcoming.  
  
"It's better if you don't know," he said.  
  
"Why? What's going on?" Dan took a step forward, getting angry now. What was with all the secrecy?  
  
But he didn't have time to find out. The door opened just then, and Giller with three of his security guards strode in. "Aeryn Sun," said Giller coldly, turning to the alien woman. "You are under arrest for assault and battery of a federal officer."  
  
"What?!" John shouted, rounding on Giller, but his goons drew their weapons, forcing John to pull up short.  
  
Giller smiled again in such a way that chills skittered through Dan's chest. What was going on? One minute John was handing him plans, the next Giller was arresting Aeryn. Everything was so out of control he could feel his heart beating.   
  
"She is after all an American citizen and subject to our laws," said Giller smugly. He turned to Aeryn. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..." Giller went on, enjoying every second of it.  
  
John, however, suddenly started babbling in a language that had to be alien while one of the guards cuffed his wife. She didn't resist, and instead allowed them to take her away. As soon as they were gone, John swore. Dan was too stunned to take in more than that for the moment. He felt like he was spinning like a top. Shakily, he reached for the closest chair and lowered himself into it. Guns, an arrest, what was next?  
  
"What are you doing?" Dan looked up. Jason was staring intently at John, blocking him from the door.  
  
"Get out of my way." John stared him down. "I need to find out where they're taking her."  
  
"She's under arrest -"   
  
"For shoving Giller out of our way when he tried to stop us from leaving yesterday!" John snapped. "If I'm going to get her out of here before that Doc McPhearson gets his hands on her, I need to know where she'd being held!" He tried to push past Jason but the Commander stood his ground. John fought but they were too close to each other for anything to be effective. O'Reilly and Worthel jumped in to help Jason.  
  
"Calm down!" shouted the Commander. It took almost ten minutes for the three of them to wrestle John to the ground, and none of them came out of it unscathed. "Just calm down will you? You can get Aeryn out on bail."  
  
"No, she'll be locked up by then, and they'll never let her out. I promised I wouldn't let that happen to her!" John continued to struggle.  
  
"Could one of us go find out?" Dan suddenly said. "Would that make you feel better?"  
  
"I'll go," Kiwi volunteered, eyes too bright as she watched the scene before her.   
  
"Me too," added Maria hastily, unnerved by the scene. "We'll find out where she is and go tell Reginard."  
  
"Can we compromise without breaking any more bones?" asked Jason from his position on top of John's legs.  
  
"Fine. Call me as soon as you know where she is." John sighed and let his head fall back against the floor with a thud. "Okay, I won't fight." Cautiously, the three men let him up. He stood and, true to his word, went for a chair instead of the door. Kiwi and Maria were already gone. They all looked at each other in silence, nervous and confused.   
  
"What's going on, John?" asked Diana, the Navy officer. "You can trust us. We want to help." The former astronaut glanced at her but remained silent, turning instead to stare pensively at the door.  
  
Dan wished someone would say something soon to break the oppressive silence, but no one budged, waiting for John to explain. After what seemed like forever, but what couldn't have been more than a minute, John lifted his head and met their stares.  
  
"Will you help me get out of here?" he asked. "Help me get Aeryn out and steal my module back?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" asked Jason. "Leave to where? You'll be hunted down."  
  
"Moya."  
  
Oh. Dan couldn't think farther than that. He was a scientist and didn't know much about this action movie stuff. "Moya's not talking to us," he said blankly. "And the Farscape is in pieces." John had to know that, he's the one who had helped take it apart.   
  
"That's why I need your help," said John. "I have to rescue Aeryn and I won't have time to put the module back together once I break her loose."  
  
"And you want us to do that for you," Dan nodded, catching on.  
  
"Wait a minute. You're talking about leaving Earth on *Moya*?" asked Worthel. He shook his head in disbelief. "You can't leave Earth."  
  
"Look, I know you don't like it, but I have to go. My friends up there need our help. Down here, Aeryn is going to be given to that psycho doctor and I will not allow that to happen! Now either you help me, or I go on to plan C which will probably get people killed, and that is something none of us want." John was on his feet, now, glaring at them.  
  
"What doctor?" Peter dared to ask.  
  
"Doctor George McPhearson, head of the new xenobiology unit at Andrews Naval Base." Everyone turned to the door where a slim, black haired woman stood in a Navy dress uniform, with DK by her side. Dan felt his grasp on cohesive thought slip again. What was going on? "Major Laurie Martin, Navy Medicine," the woman introduced herself. "I'm also an old friend of DK's." She entered and handed a slip of paper to John. "My latest orders. It means someone is going to be brought in today."  
  
Dan watched John read the orders, his face closing off the farther he got. When he looked up, he asked, "When?"  
  
"Fourteen hundred hours," Major Martin informed him.  
  
"Then we don't have much time." John handed the paper to Jason who read it aloud. The contents were enough to make Dan wish he hadn't eaten breakfast, and by the end, every person in the room was willing to help.  
  
"So what's the plan?" he asked, turning back to Crichton.  
  
John closed his eyes a second then reopened them. "First we have to get my module space worthy. Dan, can you and DK do that. Grab whomever you need. The rest of us will get Aeryn out. That'll take two steps: springing her and hiding us until the module's ready."  
  
They didn't waste much time with fancy stuff, and within ten minutes, Dan was out the door with DK, Peter, and Major Fanby. Maria would join them as soon as soon as she and Kiwi got back. When they arrived at the hangar that housed the Farscape I, and saw the condition the poor ship was in, Dan realized that the plan was absolutely insane.  
  
  
  
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"Thank you, sir...No, still nothing from them...Yes, sir. Goodbye." Reginard hung up the phone. He was going to kill Giller. The pain in the ass was out for blood and causing a whole lot of trouble. If Ms. Taylor and Ms. Pellam hadn't come in asking questions, Giller probably wouldn't have bothered to tell him he had arrested Aeryn Sun. As it was, he had only managed to force Giller to keep her on IASA grounds - she was under guard in a third floor conference room - until he could sort this mess out with the higher ups. Reginard had a headache.  
  
The good news was that it was almost lunchtime, and he could take a five-minute break. He would have to remind Giller to feed Aeryn. Maybe he'd send his secretary with something. He was making the note, when the door to his office was almost knocked in.  
  
It was Crichton. Reginard was surprised the man hadn't shown up earlier. There was a bruise forming on his chin, and in general, he looked a little worse for wear. And definitely not happy.  
  
"I know she's in the building, but no one can go upstairs. Where is she?" John got straight to the point.  
  
"If you're planning on breaking her out, don't bother. Giller is guarding her well with his own men. I'm working on getting him to let her go. She'll be out of here by five." Reginard looked earnestly into John's worried eyes, hoping he still had his trust. He was doing his best, and he would get her away from Giller legally, John just had to trust him.  
  
Finally, Crichton nodded. "At least tell me she'd not locked in some broom closet," he asked, glancing out the window then back.  
  
Reginard smiled, glad he could reassure him of that. "She's fine, in a conference room."  
  
"Okay. Thanks." John turned to go, but before he reached the door, he stopped and turned back. "It was nice working with you, Ambassador Reginard. Good luck." He left.  
  
He had used his name. His title and his name. Taken aback and not sure what to make of it, Reginard went to the vending machine for lunch. Hitting the button for a ham and cheese sandwich, he decided not to worry about it until Giller had been taken care of. Now that was something to worry about that wouldn't just go away.  
  
But all thought of Giller did fly out of his mind when the janitor's closet exploded just thirty feet in front of him. And then another and another. Flames leapt from the blown open doors like whips, spreading across the floor. Reginard ran to the fire alarm and pulled down the handle just as the sprinklers turned on. Smoke everywhere, he ran for the doors with a hundred other people who came pouring out of offices, shrieking in fear.  
  
The chaos outside was absolute. Through the panicked crowd and the din, he heard someone shout, "The prisoner!" but he couldn't make out any more. Everything was too confused, too wild, and out of control. What the hell had happened?! Fifteen more feet and it would have been him in front of the explosion from the janitor's closet. The broom closet, he realized. John had done this. To get Aeryn.  
  
Reginard looked around wildly, but saw nothing except scared people. The fire sirens from the approaching trucks contrasted with the astonished silence of the onlookers and escapees. The building didn't burn so much as smoke, thick and dark clouds swelling upward like storm clouds rising.  
  
  
  
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The whole complex was in an uproar by the time DK got back to his office in the Shepherd building. The fire in the administration building had upset the day, and now security and police were everywhere looking for John and Aeryn. The word was Aeryn had been arrested for murder, and John had started the fire. Some even said John had also killed Giller because he had arrested Aeryn. DK knew that was an exaggeration. Even the John he had come to know over the last four months wouldn't kill the man if he could help it.  
  
Nodding to Yora and Kiwi who were keeping watch, DK entered his office where John and Aeryn were avoiding security. So far they hadn't come here, but it was only a matter of time. The security cameras in the hall were intact but looped, keeping goings and comings a secret. "She's ready," he said. "Just the way you brought her back."  
  
"Thank you," said John.  
  
It was time for them to leave before the authorities thought to look here. "You're still going?" DK asked before he could stop himself.  
  
"DK -"  
  
"I know, I know. Yes. Of course, you can't stay now. I still wish you would."  
  
"Look, I know we never really talked about what happened to me, and I'm sorry about the wormhole thing..."  
  
"John," DK interrupted. His old friend looked at him, his eyes once again expressing the love and fear that seemed to get lost in words. "I'll take care of the wormhole research. At least with me at the helm, I can falsify it. But that doesn't matter, now. State function right?" he tried to smile past the lump in his throat. This was not the time. He knew it, but if not now, when? "What matters it that I love you, and I've had you for four months, and I know you're alive. When you're out there, just take care of your family, or I'll run off with Aeryn myself." This time the smile, and the matching ones on John and Aeryn's faces, came more easily.  
  
"Thanks. I'm gonna miss you, too."  
  
"Likewise, bro." They regarded each other a moment, then John grabbed him into a fierce hug that said everything else that needed saying. He was leaving, thought DK.  
  
"Are you two ready?" asked Aeryn quietly when they broke apart. They nodded as one. DK felt calm as one did before the storm. The plan was simple, and if all went well there would be no more explosions. That was plan C, John had explained to them when they were setting it up. The small army of engineers, astronauts, and the five military officers on the technology team helping John and Aeryn escape would distract security by shouting John or Aeryn's names at various places away from the hangar that held the Farscape I. DK only hoped that it worked.  
  
"Good luck," he said. "And take care of yourselves." He pulled Aeryn close in a brief hug that she returned.  
  
"You too," she whispered fiercely.  
  
DK left the office alone and said to the waiting ladies, "It's time." Each taking their own steadying breath, they split up, to start the diversion. DK went to the north end of the building and rode the elevator down. The numbers passed slowly like his own personal countdown. When the doors opened he took a deep breath. This was it.   
  
On the ground floor, two security officers were knocking on doors. DK casually went out the double doors, and once he was far enough away but still close enough to be heard inside, he yelled, "John!"  
  
It worked like a charm. Out came security, demanding where their prey was and what direction he had taken. DK pointed directly opposite the hangars. The guards took off, calling for backup. Soon, the chaos that had been present since the fire, transformed into pandemonium with mixed messages coming over the wires, confusing the hell out of security and the police. If it hadn't been so nerve wracking, it would have been fun. At one point, DK crossed paths with Captain O'Reilly, and with conspiratory grins, they took off in different directions. The game lasted about ten minutes before the guards figured out that something was fishy. DK prayed it was enough.  
  
He was dodging around the back of the Braun building when two of Giller's security people cornered him. "Seen Crichton, have you?" one of the big, beefy men sneered.  
  
At that moment, the sound of engines roaring to life nearby echoed through the complex. DK smiled in relief. They'd done it. "Nope. Just heard him," he said cheerfully. The two guards stared at him for a second, then looked at each other, then, forgetting about DK, followed the engine noise toward the field that neighbored the runway, where the rest of IASA had turned out to look.  
  
John and Aeryn were air born. They did a flyby at the control tower then left for the lake where Jack was waiting with Rhia and Seth. By the time the military scrambled to catch them, it would be too late.  
  
Within thirty seconds, they were gone, hidden by the distant tree line. DK turned back to the IASA complex, alone among the crowd of hundreds of shocked personnel. Around them he heard gasps of surprise and speculation if it was all related. The press would do a story on today's event, maybe even a serial on Earth's first encounter with aliens from start to finish, he thought flippantly. They were already lining up to grab anyone who would interview. Yep, it would be in the history books, thought DK brightly, for some reason in a good mood, and the details would fade into legend.  
  
But that didn't matter because he knew the truth. He paused and pulled out his wallet and the picture he'd added to it after Christmas. It was of John and Aeryn sitting on their couch, grinning at the camera, arms wrapped around Rhia and Seth who giggled in delight in their laps. In the foreground there were wisps of wrapping paper and opened presents. Just his best friend and his family, relaxed and happy for a moment in time. That was the truth that DK would always remember.  
  
  
  
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End Part 4 


	5. Epilogue

Ray of Smoke  
By Tassos  
  
Author's note: Okay, I know I should have had this out about three months ago but now that I'm in school, I have no time and oh so many other distractions from writing. So now that I've caught up on sleep, I know I can't put it off any longer. Thank you all for being patient (and if you weren't, like I get when authors take forever to finish their fic - don't tell me. My sisters probably give me enough flak to make up for all of yours.) So let the denounment begin...  
  
  
  
Ray of Smoke  
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Epilogue  
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Earth: 2014  
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"Earlier today President Landers announced that negotiations for the new Arms Treaty with the Middle East were going better than expected. The cease fire called last week between US forces and Pakistan is still in effect while everyone waits for the results of the US's new Smart Bombs which will be held over the next week in Arizona. The weapons are the first to incorporate alien technology, and if successful, would give the United States the advantage. Gary Oswald reporting."  
  
Shannon got up from her perch near the news bureau, uninterested in listening to Gary's piece on the new Smart Bombs. She'd already gotten the scoop from the men who had designed them and learned that they basically did what all bombs did: namely blow things up. The alien component wasn't actually technology since everything had been made on Earth, but rather the design. Still it was the results that mattered. If the fear of the new bombs could stop the war in the Middle East, she was all for it. It was getting tiresome, both from a news standpoint and a human one.  
  
It would be too bad for the war correspondents. Mentally shrugging her shoulders, she went to the break room to get a cup of coffee.  
  
"Hey, Shannon," Henry greeted her.  
  
"Henry, what are you still doing here?"  
  
"Same thing you are, waiting to see our interview," he replied. "Took us so long to get it, I want to make sure they do it right."  
  
Shannon could only agree with him. Five minutes later, they went back into the news room where Debra was waiting to go back on the air.  
  
"Today another consequence of John Crichton's stay on Earth comes to an end: the Crichton Conspirators probationary sentence," the anchorwoman began. "The seventeen IASA personal, who helped Crichton and his alien wife leave Earth, have spent the last three years serving time by working for the government and watching their step. Shannon Lucas reporting from Cape Canaveral, Florida."  
  
"February 16th, 2011," the live monitor changed to an aerial shot of the Cape with Shannon narrating, "an explosion rocked the peaceful world of the Kennedy Space Center. Five homemade bombs went off in the administration building, starting fires in an elaborate jailbreak. In the chaos, the alien Erin Sun, who was under arrest for assaulting a federal officer, disappeared with her husband John Crichton. When the firefighters arrived, the hunt was on to the sound of many different birddogs. Seventeen engineers and astronauts, known as the Crichton Conspirators, sent authorities on a wild goose chase, giving Crichton and Sun time to steal the original Fasrscape spacecraft and escape Earth's atmosphere. The Conspirators have spent the last three years paying for their crimes by serving their country."  
  
The footage changed to a lounge where the infamous DK Moore and Dan Bemear sat with Shannon for the interview. "Both of you have served out your probationary sentence for three years. How does it feel now that it's finally over?" the reporter began.  
  
Moore shrugged. "I won't have to worry about parking tickets any more," he said.  
  
"Or speeding tickets," added Bemear with a smile.  
  
"Actually, it won't be that different," Moore continued. "The sentence required us to basically do our jobs. We were under more supervision of course, and we also reported to the Department on Defense, but over all it wasn't very different from what we've been doing for the last five years anyway."  
  
"Except with alien technology," said Shannon.  
  
Bemear smiled. "It's still science, still engineering. It's just been taken to a whole new level."  
  
"What were the original charges brought against you after you helped Crichton and Sun leave Earth?"  
  
"Accessory to commit terrorist acts, theft of government property, and aiding in the escape of a suspect for criminal proceedings," Moore rattled off.   
  
"And if you had gone to court and been convicted, what were you facing?"  
  
"If convicted of all three charges we would have each gotten twenty years to life."  
  
"That's a pretty long time. Would it have been worth it?"  
  
Moore and Bemear exchanged a look. "Yes," they said together. "Every second of it," Moore added quietly. "John had his reasons for leaving, but the government, understandably, didn't want to let him go. Knowing John, he probably would have found a way somehow to leave, or his friends on Moya would have come down with a lot of weapons to get him away. Anyone who got in their way would probably be dead now. Even if it had cost us our freedom, we still would have saved people's lives."  
  
"You and Crichton were best friends. Did he tell you why they had to leave?"  
  
"Yes." Moore smiled but didn't elaborate. It was the same reaction all journalists got when they asked the question of the Crichton family. Even watching now, Shannon still felt frustrated by it.  
  
"Don't ask me," said Bemear. "I don't know the main reason either."  
  
"If you didn't know, then why did you help?"  
  
"Because it was the right thing to do."  
  
The interview cut off and switched back the Debra Wilkins at the anchor desk. "It appears that the government believed a light sentence was 'the right thing to do' as well," she said. "Able to continue their work on the alien technology, the IASA Farscape Project has soared - literally. Next week on First Contact Day, the Farscape III fitted with the Faster Than Light Hetch Drive, is set to launch. More on that story when we come back."  
  
Shannon hated the brevity of her piece, but the Conspiracy was old news, so it couldn't be helped. Perhaps she would call Jack Crichton again to see if he was interested in doing an interview yet. She doubted it, but it never hurt to ask. One day she would get it.  
  
  
  
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Rhia wanted to scream. They had come back. With a deep breath, she controlled her impulse and waited quietly, continuing her work. Just a little bit longer... a little longer... a little... Now! Letting loose her yell, Rhia pounced on her little brother and Essor, grabbing each by the wrist before they could get away.  
  
"I told you to get out of here!" she shouted at them. Rhia dragged them out of her room before they got loose. "Ow!" she cried when the two boys resorted to teeth. "Seth, I'm gonna kill you!"  
  
"Gotta catch us first!" her brother yelled happily as he and Essor ran away giggling. Rhia ran after them, her longer legs swiftly catching her up.   
  
"Owwwwwwww!" shrieked Essor when she yanked on his shirt. "Rhia! That hurts!"  
  
"It's gonna hurt a lot more if you don't stay out of my room!"  
  
"It's my room too!" Seth shouted back impishly. Rhia dragged him to his tip-toes "Pilot!!!" he shrieked.  
  
"Rhia Sun!" Pilot's voice echoed through her comm. "Put Seth down now."  
  
"But - " she protested, letting the brat stand on his own again.  
  
"Rhia!" Dad's voice interrupted. Rhia glared at him as he stalked down the corridor. Now she was going to get in trouble when it was all Seth and Essor's fault. "Seth, Essor, don't you move," Dad's voice cracked like a whip, stopping the boys in their tracks as they tried to sneak away. "Now what's going on?"  
  
Rhia started to explain at the same time the boys did only to be cut off a moment later by Dad who nodded at her to continue. "They've been bothering me all day, Dad. They won't leave me alone. I told them to leave twic, and they came back so I was just chasing them away."  
  
"That's not true! She jumped us!" said Seth indignantly.  
  
"She hurt my neck, John," Essor added.  
  
"That wasn't my fault!" Rhia protested.  
  
"Yes, it was," Essor shouted back.  
  
"No it wasn't!"  
  
"All right, quiet!" Dad shouted over them. "Boys, go play somewhere else. I don't want - "  
  
"But Daad!"  
  
"I don't want to see you on this tier!" Dad stared at them till they reluctantly nodded. "And Rhia, I want you to stop beating them up."  
  
"I didn't!"  
  
"Go on now, shoo." Dad waved a hand at the boys until they scampered off to bug someone else. It was so unfair. Rhia stared at Dad's boots, feeling the injustice to her bones. Just because she was nine and they were six everything was *her* responsibility. "Come on, Rhia, look at me." She refused.  
  
"It wasn't my fault," she said defiantly.  
  
Dad sighed. "Yeah, I know. Being the oldest sucks." He forced her head up with a finger under her chin. "But you're bigger than they are. That means - "  
  
"I gotta be careful," Rhia finished.  
  
"Yeah," Dad smiled. "So how's the math coming?" he asked changing the subject. Dad offered Rhia his hand and she took it for the walk back to her room.  
  
"I hate math."  
  
"That's not going to get you out of doing it," Dad grinned down at her without any sympathy. Rhia scowled. What did she need math for anyway? The way she saw it, she needed to learn how to fight and fly more than she needed to know how to multiply and divide fractions. But Dad insisted. Said she needed it before she could get to more interesting things like physics and chemistry which would one day save her life. Rhia thought that was a load of dren.   
  
"It's so stupid, though!" she complained. "Who cares if you have three quarters of a half anyway?"  
  
"Rygel would if it were food. D'argo would if it were troops," Dad replied.  
  
Okay. Maybe. Rhia wasn't ready to give in, but knew better than to argue. She just wished Mama were home so she could learn to fight more. "When will Mama come home?" she asked as they entered her room. Ignoring the mess, Rhia went to her bed to retrieve the work she had done since she knew Dad would want to look at it.  
  
"It'll be a while, sweetie," he said. "Crais and Talyn were separated for a long time and the healing process is slow for both of them." He joined her on the bed and accepted the notebook. He looked over it, a small smile passing over his lips. "For someone who hates math, you're not bad at it," he commented.   
  
Rhia shrugged, unimpressed with herself. "Are they going to be all right? Talyn and Crais?" she asked.  
  
Dad set the notebook aside and pulled Rhia onto his lap. "Yeah," he said. "They're gonna be okay." He kissed her forehead, and Rhia relaxed against him. "And one day all this fighting will be over," Dad went on softly. "And we will be able to live in peace."  
  
"Like one of Grandpa's fairy stories with 'happily ever after?'"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Rhia remembered Grandpa's princes and princesses going on adventures and living happily for the rest of their lives, rich in a castle. It was a life Rhia couldn't even imagine. She'd said as much to Grandpa once, and he had laughed and told her that very few people on Earth could image what her life was like. It was funny thinking of Earth now. It felt so long ago, like another life or a dream. The memories were fading.   
  
"I miss Grandpa," she said. "Will we ever go back there?"  
  
"One day, Rhia," Dad replied. "One day we will return to Earth."  
  
"Good." Rhia smiled. "I'd like that."  
  
  
  
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End 


	6. Original Author's Notes

Original Author's Notes:  
  
Part 1:  
  
Disclaimer: It's okay, you can say it: "Tassos owns Farscape." There, that wasn't so bad, was it? And you thought lying was hard, pfft!  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, I know there are a million future fics out there and it will probably seem like I'm ripping everyone of them off but remember this, Shakespeare stole all his good ideas too g. Seriously, I love future fics that ask what would John do if he found Earth again? Secret? Public? How would they face off? I never tire of reading them. Sometimes I agree with what happens and sometimes I don't. This is sort of my blending everything I like, with everything I think the characters will do according to their natures tentatively following future threads the FS universe has thrown out. I've also tried to take a few different angles that haven't been done before. Think of this story as the Post Season Three So Far Future Fic (I know that while I'm writing this someone else will come out with a PSTSFFF and I'll feel like I'm ripping them off too...)  
  
For those of you who read my unfinished story Lost Children, you'll recognize the kids' names. I like them, so I used them.   
  
Just so you know, my knowledge of some Earth procedures is very, very sketchy. I have never been to a cabinet meeting or a news broadcast or a space station or ... you get the idea. So if I totally misrepresent your profession, sorry, you can drop me a note and I can try to fix they nails-down-the-blackboard problems. My knowledge is almost exclusively based on representations in movies, tv, and books.  
  
Last thing, I have the second part mostly hand written and third done in my head. There will be a fourth part too. I am going to finish them and put them up someday, but it might be a while. If people like this part , I'll get it done faster. Feedback works magic.  
  
This story is dedicated to the French language - without being bored and not understanding a word around me, I would never have gotten the tickling idea down on paper.  
  
  
  
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Part 2:  
  
Disclaimer: Allez, vous pouvez le dire. "Tassos est la propriétaire de Farscape!" Voilà. Ce n'était pas si difficile. Et vous avez cru que c'était dur à mentir! Pfft!  
  
Author's Notes: Just a reminder that this fic is based on Farscape's third season up to Fractures. I haven't seen Fractures, just read the transcript. I also won't see the season finale or season four until I get back to the States in July. (So everyone complaining about not having Farscape for months on end - don't complain about it to me! grin) The rest of the story will go directly to fanfiction.net. and probably the Farscape bboard on sci.com. I don't know when I'll have the third part out. I'm shooting for the end of Mai.  
  
The Microbe Theory: Okay, here's the microbe theory that I've come up with and that I use in my story. If you really don't care, skip it, I know it's kind of long, but it's different than the conventional understanding and here if you want to know. I finalized this while writing the second part so I apologize for any inconsistencies.  
  
The translator microbes give the host the ability to understand alien/foreign languages. For me, what that means is that when an alien speaks, his words in his language go directly to meaning in my brain. Think of it as being fluent in a foreign language without the first four months of incomprehension. John hears D'argo speak in his garbled voice, not English, but he understands the words just like I understand my friends when they speak - the French goes directly to meaning, no interior translation necessary.   
  
That said, I'm also assuming that after a period of time, the microbes will help someone learn how to speak the languages he hears on a regular basis, if the vocal cords physically allow it and the person practices enough. Think of this as learning how to speak Chinese: the sound system is so different that no matter how much one hears it it's still very hard to pronounce, (at least for us westerners). The microbes work in the brain, not the actual muscles. I'm assuming that most people wouldn't bother, (I mean would you?) Children who grow up in a multi-language environment such as Moya would be able to easily pronounce all languages in their vocal cord capability since they'd be hearing them as they learned to speak; that's how Rhia can speak hynerian.  
  
(To read one must be able to sound out the words at least in their head of the language. Based on what we've seen I think that John and Aeryn speak both human/English and sebacean. I'd also think to uncomplicate things in an intergalactic society that there is a universal script that works like Chinese where a symbol stands for a whole word/concept so you could learn to read in any language. )  
  
Last thing (I know I'm getting kinda long here), if you haven't been to the NASA website, it is really cool. It's real easy to find on a yahoo search. Now having been there, I've recognized several discrepancies with my story like the Space Station Control would actually be the Mission Control Center in Houston. But it's easier for me to have it in Florida. (If you want a backstory I'm sure I can make one up grin.) I figure it's IASA and eight years in the future and since it doesn't really matter anyway, I'm not going to worry about it.  
  
  
As Puck says: "clap your hands if we be friends." Feedback is greatly appreciated.  
  
Now I'll shut up and let you read the story.  
  
  
  
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Part 3:  
  
Disclaimer: It's okay, you can say it: "Tassos owns Farscape." There, that wasn't so bad, was it? And you thought lying was hard, pfft!  
  
Author's Notes: I just want to thank everyone for all the feedback. It really means a lot to me that people are reading and enjoying the story and telling me about it. The feedback really is what keeps me writing through all the tough spots.  
  
As of April, this story is officially AU based on events up to and including Fractures. I haven't seen the last four episodes, only read the Journey Logs, so until July, they don't exist. Where it's possible I have adapted my back-timeline somewhat, but for the most part, it's the same as the one I started with way back when.  
  
This part was hard to write because of all the relationships and reactions. It ended up being about ten pages longer than I expected. I did my best.  
  
Part Three is dedicated to my friends who encouraged me while I panicked and were patient with me when I left them to write in the library, even without understanding why the hell I'm doing this or even what it's about exactly. (Et non, je ne vais pas la traduire!)  
  
Part 4 will be out sometime in July probably. (After my Farscape marathon!)  
Now, with great relief and pleasure, I proudly present...  
  
  
  
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Part 4:  
  
Disclaimer: Allez, vous pouvez le dire. "Tassos est la propriétaire de Farscape!" Voilà. Ce n'était pas si difficile. Et vous avez cru que c'était dur à mentir! Pfft!  
  
Author's Notes: Yaaay! Farscape rocks! I am finally home and caught up and can I just take a moment to say 'WOW!' I knew there was a reason I'm obsessed with this show! As far as notes go, I don't have many. Special thanks to Yahoo for the information on Pakistan and the official govt website for the JCS and military stuff. This part could probably have been twice as long, (and it's already 20 pages more than the first part!) but I wanted to get it finished on schedule. I couldn't do everything that popped into my head. (Maybe if I make it into a movie...)  
  
I'd like to thank everyone who sent feedback: DekotaSkye, NotOnlyHuman, Feynor, Alison, Alynna Lis Eachann, Lynn, BetanSuvey, DM Baird, bigfatcat, Stone Cold, Lauria, Hidra2000, Nonnie, DaBear, Mariah M, ny, GalaxySun617, ajlighthouse, D13mila, Tick Tock, Rowan Seven, Kizmet, Gv2.0, Genesis, Lady FoxFire, Farscape Maniac, Mayco Skywalker, Brenna, Troy, starlight, Farscape Fan, syaoran li, Phil, Buffanatic, aminalhari, trisarahtops, elizbraybet, and special thanks to KFlowers for her wonderful questions that keep me on track. I'm really glad everyone is enjoying the story. I love feedback.   
  
So that said, I have one simple request: please tell me what were your favorite and least favorite scenes from the whole story (parts 1 through the epilogue (which should be up soon)). Just what ever jumps into your head. It's okay if you don't have one or have more than one, you don't even have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just curious. Any other comments (good, bad, and constructive) are all welcome.  
  
And now...  
  
  
  
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Epilogue:  
  
Author's note: Okay, I know I should have had this out about three months ago but now that I'm in school, I have no time and oh so many other distractions from writing. So now that I've caught up on sleep, I know I can't put it off any longer. Thank you all for being patient (and if you weren't, like I get when authors take forever to finish their fic - don't tell me. My sisters probably give me enough flak to make up for all of yours.) So let the denounment begin...  
  
Thanks to the online Federal Sentencing Guideline Manual.  
  
  
  
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The idea for this story came out of a question: What would happen if Moya returned to Earth and John wasn't aboard? 


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